Casting Stones
by Angie5
Summary: And now for something completely different! Hermione returns to sixth year completely changed. As the year progresses, her powers are growing stronger and stronger. But....how will she use them? Please read and review!
1. The Intro and Prelude

Author's Note: Okay…I can't exactly figure out how to make page breaks show up on fanfiction. So if I disturb the flow…humbles apologies, gentle readers.)  
  
(Another Author's Note--Please do not judge this fiction by the contents of the chapter. This chapter is written in a different, more juvenile style than I prefer. It was also written after most of the story was underway, so the flow is a little different.   
  
The hot, Bulgarian moon pulsed down onto Hermione's back. Of course, this made no sense because moons do not emit any heat, nor do they pulse. This was only metaphorical pulsing. And yet she felt the pulsation.  
  
  
  
The summer vacation with Vicky had been a dream. A chance to practice the dark arts away from the prying eyes of those blasted boys. She smiled softly, recalling her first encounter with the Goddess. Diana had come at night. After assuring Hermione of her unmatched power, she began her persuasive tactics. Soon, Hermione realized the darkness that was inside her and how to channel it To embrace it, to make it useful--that was what she needed to do.   
  
Hermione scoffed as she recalled Harry and Ron.   
  
  
  
Harry, the blissfully ignorant hero. He never appreciated her and never realized the extent of her abilities. The killer with the o-so loveable charm! Who could resist that shaggy, moppy main of unruly black hair that fell into his eyes just so?  
  
  
  
He looks like a deranged Muppet, thought Hermione bitterly as she kneeled over the fire she was building. He could be great--if he was not so hell-bent on good and evil, so unwilling to enter the grey zone between the two where Hermione had recently found herself.   
  
  
  
Ron was not as wretched as Harry was doomed to be. His growing infatuation with Hermione had been more of an inconvenience than a curse.   
  
  
  
However, Harry's growing influence over Dumbledore was a curse. Unlike Harry, Dumbledore was not afraid to enter the Twilight Zone of evil. The wizard recognized that sometimes morals must be sacrificed to do good.   
  
  
  
"He's such a bitch," thought Hermione as she retrieved the metal from the fire. Her skin hissed as she drew the triangle on it. Drawing a shaky breath, she screamed a long, shrill animal yell.   
  
"O Diana," she cried. "Goddess of women scorned, grant me power." She fell to the ground as the sizzling continued. "I give you my soul and heart. I surrender to you, O redeemer. You know of my plea, and if it so be your will…" The collapsing of thunder and the flash of lightening interrupted her.  
  
  
  
As she half-collapsed, half fainted, she whispered one faint, determined vow.  
  
"Harry's going to get his due this year."  
  
While in England, it's the middle of the night  
  
"Hogwarts looks like a fairyland in the winter," philosophized Harry as he lay by the window in the Gryffyndor common room.  
  
"I know," spat Ron, who was lounging in an armchair. "All those blasted Hufflepuff's prancing about…we all know what "Hufflepuff" really means..."  
  
"I meant that it looks like a separate reality and a special, magical place where dreams and illusions come true, Ron." Harry narrowed his eyes. "Pay attention."  
  
"You are so right, Harry. It looks EXACTLY like a fairyland, in every aspect."  
  
"Yes," said Harry. "You may copy my essay now, since you are such a good wench."  
  
They sat in silence for a bit, with Harry meditating on the celestial beauty of the winter season and Ron plagiarizing the paper.  
  
"Have you seen Hermione lately?" inquired Harry, breaking the silence.  
  
"No, not since the 15th," said Ron absently. He looked up from his parchment. "Why?"  
  
"The fifteenth…" Said Harry, a thought forming. "That was the night of the full moon."  
  
"And it has been four days since then."  
  
Suddenly, Hermione burst in. "Hello, hello," she greeted. She regarded Harry's suspicious voice and broke out into an inconspicious song. The theme from Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. "It is a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor," she began to sing. "Won't you be mine? Won't you be mine?"  
  
"I'd love to be," said Ron passionately.  
  
"Ew!" screamed Hermione, gazing at the would-be suitor. "I wouldn't touch you with a…thirty nine and a half foot pole!"  
  
"That's a line from the Mr. Grinch song," said Harry, recalling the Ron Howard holiday hit from a few years ago.  
  
"You know your pop culture oh, so well Harry dear," complimented Hermione sarcastically. "Would you like me to make you pie?"  
  
"Sure! That would be so nice of you. I'd love some fresh pie." Harry couldn't feeling surprised. Lately, Hermione had been a heartless cold bitch to anyone who tried to talk to her.   
  
"Then make it yourself, you misogynistic bastard!" snarled Hermione. She threw a book a Harry who was fortunately blessed with the gift of ducking.  
  
"HATE CRIME, HATE CRIME!" screamed Harry, watching the textbook slam into the wall.  
  
"Wow, Hermione," muttered Ron. He pointed to her arm. "What in the hell is that?"  
  
Hermione hastened to cover her burn mark. "I bumped my arm."  
  
"With what, a branding iron?" asked Harry. "Here, let me carry you to the Hospital Wing. She'll sew you up again."  
  
"Don't touch me," said Hermione as her face grew dark. "No man may touch she who carries the mark of the Goddess. NO ONE!"  
  
Harry screamed as her face grew darker and darker.  
  
"Crikey, Harry," said Ron. "Wake up!"  
  
"Oh my Lord." Harry sat up in his bed and gazed at the tangled bed sheets. He reached for his glass of water. "Ouch!"  
  
"What is it?" asked Ron, growing concern for his master.  
  
"I have one awful headache. Either that or Voldemort is standing outside the door." Harry massaged his head. "Did we get drunk last night?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "Probably."  
  
"Maybe that's it. Ah!" He rubbed his head again. "My scar is throbbing!"  
  
Ron giggled. "Why are you giggling?" demanded Harry. "I'm in pain, and he's snickering," complained Harry to Ron's stuffed bear, Ramekins. "What a friend."  
  
"Throbbing, specimen of manhood… It's from a book." As Harry shot him a confused look, Ron sighed. "Don't you read?"  
  
"If you mean smutty romance novels with suggestive covers, then no I do not read," sighed Harry, rubbing his forehead.  
  
  
  
"Don't criticize what you don't understand," said Ron as he stood up. "Come on, let's go get some toast."  
  
Whilst in Bulgaria…  
  
  
  
"I ask the goddess for one simple thing," grumbled Hermione. "I could have done it without her interference and then she makes these demands on me. Who the hell does she think she is? Semen of a righteous man. If I HAD a righteous man's semen in my possestion, I wouldn't have to sell her my soul in exchange for demonic power to wreck havoc an old fancy of mine."  
  
A righteous man…thought Hermione…with obtainable semen…"Of course," thought Hermione cleverly. "The ways of the Great One are revealing themselves to me…oh Viktor…" called Hermione.   
  
  
  
She strolled about a quarter mile to her right where he was involved in a Quidditch match against his brothers, Mrugnabad and Bobeckeric.   
  
  
  
"Viktor!" shrieked Hermione. "I'm calling you!"  
  
  
  
"Hey, Viktor," called Bobeckeric. "Hagpo mich-salma ques-ce foe Hermione ka buberous." (Translation: Your crazy beaver-like bitch is calling for you.)  
  
  
  
"Coming!" called Viktor as he landed. He gave his guest a once-over and smiled."What is up, Herm?"  
  
  
  
She raised her eyebrows suggestively and grabbed his hand. "I thought we might go for a walk…in the woods," she purred.  
  
  
  
Viktor gaped at her. "That sounds good," he answered weakly, comprehending her suggestion.  
  
  
  
"Ich ta pala un woody," said Mrugnabad disgustedly. (Translation: He is so going to get some).  
  
  
  
I cannot believe the things I am sacrificing for my mistress, sighed Hermione to herself. Smiling coquettishly, Hermione led him into the woods.  
  
Later that night…  
  
Hermione stood before her fire of incantations and sheepishly gazed up towards the heavens. "Goddess Diana, the situation is sticky," she recited. "I was to bring you sperm from my Vicky." She paused and thought of another line. "I had him erect and his semen would follow…" She lowered her eyes in shame and discomfort. "Alas, I was hot…So hot that I swallowed."  
  
"Forgive me?" she asked timidly. The thunder crashed angrily. "Fine," she sighed. "I'll try again tomorrow."  
  
A/N-The second chapter will be better. I just needed a good set up. Setting things up takes forever--I had to devote an entire chapter to the legend of the Forbidden FOrest's lumberjack. Sigh. It's in Chapter 8 or something)  
  
now go on…push that little button…review! 


	2. A Delivery and Reunion

(A/N- I've noticed that no one is really reading this, but it's all good. I've hit a good spot on this story and will be updating more frequently now. Any ideas for a good lumberjack name.give me a holler.)  
  
Disclaimer: gonna sue, first review.  
  
Hermione spent only one more week in Bulgaria with Viktor. After obtaining the um, liquid, Hermione found Viktor increasingly more annoying. She was not interested in playing Quidditch with him. It was a dirty job, ruining Harry and Ron's future but someone had to do it. Someone like her.  
  
A letter from Harry and Ron surprised her one day before leaving Bulgaria. Surprised to see Hedwig in the foreign country, she welcomed the owl. It wasn't her fault her master was an incompetent bastard. Hermione stroked the snowy white owl and gave her some food. As Hedwig settled to rest from her long trip, she busied herself with reading the letter.  
  
Dear Hermione,  
  
The Burrow isn't the same without you. We sleep late, eat whenever we want, haven't started our homework, drink ourselves blind at night. Ron's parents are in Romania visiting his brother. Fred and George are in their glory, throwing parties every other night.  
  
Anyway, come visit us at The Burrow the weekend before we leave for Hogwarts! We'll go into Diagon Alley-  
  
"Probably make me do their homework," scoffed Hermione, as she saw the invite. She read on:  
  
We'll go into Diagon Alley, play some Quidditch, reminisce about years past.think about it?  
Love,  
  
Harry  
  
"I wish he would die," commented Hermione to Hedwig. She petted the owl.  
  
"Would you do that? Could you peck his eyes out for me? Hm," she mused. "I probably could make you, you know. Diana has given me a lot of power, plus I have my own magical skills. Eyes pecked out by his own pet.is that poetic justice?"  
  
Hermione ran a hand through her hair. "He'd fend you off, you know. He's so bloody lucky. He should have died years ago." She smiled. "If I had only seen how he was using me back then."  
  
Thinking for a moment, Hermione grabbed some parchment and scribbled a reply to Harry.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Bulgaria is lovely, thank you for asking. Every night, Viktor snogs me senselessly under the clear, Bulgarian skies. Afterwards, I build a bonfire and sacrifice small animals to the goddess Diana. I recently gave her my immortal soul in exchange for limitless power, in case you're wondering.  
  
I would love to visit you at the Burrow before Hogwarts. I've been waiting all summer to sit up all night and listen to you whine about how you killed your godfather and how everything is your fault. Add to that the bonus of doing your homework for you.it'll be just like Christmas for me.  
Love,  
  
Hermione.  
  
Hermione chuckled. She imagined Harry's shocked face when he saw her letter. As much as she would enjoy giving him an aneurysm, she wished him a more gory, intense death. Instead she wrote some typically Hermione letter about education and house-elves.  
  
I'll meet you in Diagon Alley on August 30th, she wrote. We'll have the weekend to catch up on the summer. And Harry, don't be so hard on yourself about Sirius. He would want you to be happy.  
  
She signed her name with a flourish and a giggle and sent a more-rested Hedwig on her trip.  
  
August 30th rolled along much faster than Harry and Ron had planned. Nights of partying, snogging and fun had lost track of time. Harry actually plumb forgot about meeting Hermione until 2 in the morning on August 30th.  
  
"Crap, Ron!" he shouted to his buddy. "We're meeting Hermione in Diagon Alley in ten hours!"  
  
Ron groaned and separated himself from his dancing partner. "She'll lecture us about not getting sleep. Just tell her some bullshit story about haunting nightmares about Snuffles."  
  
Harry winced. Inwardly, he knew that was the real reason he was a party animal now. Drinking and dancing was better than sleeping and having such awful nightmares. He was almost looking forward to Hermione's lecture. It would return some of the normalcy in his life. So much was changing. His voice, his friends, his mind.  
  
"I think I'll go back to the Burrow now," commented Harry. "You know, Hermione is going to be staying with us. She might appreciate a kitchen that doesn't smell like Chinese food."  
  
"I suppose you're right," mumbled Ron. He joined Harry in front of the fireplace and threw some Floo Powder in. "The Burrow!" he shouted.  
  
Harry followed suit and soon found himself in the familiarly messy home.  
  
Harry, Ginny and Ron waited in the Leaky Caldron for Hermione to appear. It was noon, the time of the meeting and yet she hadn't appeared. Not only was it unlike Hermione to be late, the Leaky Caldron was a strange place for her to pick to meet. Usually it was something more like Flourish and Blotts.  
  
"Sorry I'm late," called Hermione as she ran down the stairs of The Leaky Caldron. "I got involved in what I was doing and forgot the time."  
  
Ginny glanced at the direction Hermione was coming from. "'Mione, what were you doing upstairs? That's where the bedrooms are?"  
  
Great, thought Ron. She's been screwing Tom the Bartender and she won't even give me a little snog.  
  
Hermione looked at Ginny oddly. "Yes, Ginny. One tends to sleep in the bedrooms when one is staying at a motel."  
"What are you doing staying here when there's a welcoming bedroom at the burrow?" cried an outraged Ginny. "We have plenty of space. You could have stayed in my room-"  
  
"Or mine," added Ron hastily. Harry elbowed him.  
  
"Real subtle, Ron," he snickered,.  
  
"Or anywhere!" continued Ginny. "Why waste your money here?"  
  
Hermione examined Ginny. "I had things to attend to in Diagon Alley," she said cryptically.  
  
Actually, Knockturn Alley she thought. Still beating heart of a virgin is harder to buy than you'd think.  
  
"Wow, Hermione," commented Ron suddenly. "You look.different."  
  
Hermione shuddered. Although she didn't hate Ron as much as she hated Harry, he was still an annoying ass that should be slapped.  
  
"Not different bad," added Ginny. "Just different than usual. You look very." Ginny searched for a word. "Slytherin."  
  
It was true--selling her soul and dedicating her life to the downfall of The Boy-Who-Lived had changed her appearance. Hermione's hair had grown darker, her face paler. Her hair, once bushy and frazzled, had calmed down to waves. Hermione truly did look like a practitioner of the dark arts.  
  
"Yes, well Bulgaria does that to your looks," she said quickly. Especially to your arm, where you brand yourself a follower of The Supreme Dark One with the Eternal Black Mark. "Shall we go get our books?"  
  
Leaving the pub, the quartet wandered into bookshops and supply stores. After a strenuous afternoon of book-shopping, the tired students decided on ice cream.  
  
After securing a table in the busy streets of the alley, Ron and Harry went to go get the ice cream. Ginny launched into a detailed description of her eventful summer, subtly question Hermione for the details of her own.  
  
"The usual," said Hermione blatantly. "Sold my soul for limitless power, made sweet love to Viktor until the sun peaked over the horizon, sacrificed small animals to the dark powers, finished my potions essay." Hermione glanced up at her friend. "Anything else?"  
  
"You have a very odd sense of humor, Herm." Ginny looked up to see a girl waving at Hermione. Not quite waving, but acknowledging. The girl looked rather like Hermione. Dark and pale, with nice features. She was actually quite pretty. "Do you know her?" inquired Ginny.  
  
"Hush," said Hermione as she gazed intently on the girl. Come on, walk over, she urged the creature with her mind. The girl walked. Hermione smiled. Her creation was full-functioning cyborg. The Goddess has been good to me. This girl will lure Harry into my trap. She cackled silently.  
  
Let my reign begin, thought Hermione as Ron approached with the ice cream.  
  
Let my reign begin.  
  
(A/N-Oooo. A cliffhanger!!!!!) 


	3. Insanity, Vengeance and Ice Cream

(Author's Note: Greetings. Please, readers. Lumberjack names! I can't introduce him until I have a name for him. Trogdor? Gustav? Gomez?  
And now gentle readers-gently read Chapter Three: Insanity and Vengeance. Two of my favorite things.)  
  
As he walked out of the ice cream parlor, Harry nearly fell over as he saw the girl waving at Hermione. Hermione. "Wow." Harry nearly dropped the ice cream cones he was carrying. He turned to Ron. "Who is THAT?" Harry didn't usually consider himself a skirt-chaser, womanizer or a flirt (although Hermione thinks differently), but this girl prompted him to become all three of those things.  
  
The dark girl was wandering over to Hermione. "Hermione," she said in a mellifluous voice. "I've come to you. As I was instructed to do."  
  
Hermione smiled, pleased that her plan was going well. "Yes. Excellent job." She turned to The Boy Who Lived. "This is Harry." She nodded her head and exaggerated Harry's name.  
  
The girl knowingly nodded. "Is this the one?" she asked Hermione. Hermione nodded. Ginny looked towards her brother, but Ron's eyes were too fixated on Hermione to absorb the strange conversation  
  
The girl extended her hand to Harry. "Hello, Harry." She gracefully shook his hand. "My name is Dementia."  
  
"Dementia," breathed Harry. "What a beautiful name." He stared into her hypnotic eyes.  
  
"Thank you." Dementia smiled, revealing her perfect teeth. "It means "insanity."  
  
Harry was still grasping her hand. "My name's Harry. It means.well, I don't think it means anything."  
  
"My name's Ron," said Ron. "That's my sister Ginny."  
  
"It means "virgin," added Ginny. Hermione, Dementia and her threw back their heads and laughed.  
  
"What a fitting name," commented Hermione, laughing over the inappropriate name for her boy-crazy friend.  
  
Despite who her brother was and who her own friends were, Hermione was somewhat fond of Ginny. There was something about the girl that Hermione found interesting. Her ability to smooth over nearly any situation was intriguing. Hermione was confident that the Goddess would value such a follower, not to mention how skilled Ginny was in most magical areas.  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes in anger. Harry was now openly gaping at her creation, Dementia. What right does he have to even LOOK at her, Hermione thought angrily. He's scum and Dementia is.she's perfect. She relaxed her face and resumed her custom stressed-out smile. "Say, Harry. Are you gong to give me that ice cream anytime soon?"  
  
"Oh, sure." Harry fumbled and handed Hermione her ice cream. "Would you like me to get you some ice cream, Dementia?"  
  
"No thank you. I don't need to eat." Dementia smiled again. Harry stared into their blinding whiteness. There was something odd about this girl, he thought. "Do you mind if I sit with you, Harry?"  
  
Harry coughed nervously. "No, not at all." Dementia slid into the seat next to Harry. The five teenagers clustered around a table and began to eat their ice cream.  
  
"So, Dementia," began Harry. "Where do you go to school?" Don't say Dumstrang, please don't, thought Harry. Let this girl be going to Hogwarts..  
  
She fixed her eyes on him. "I will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with my mistress, Her-"  
  
"Trelawney!" shrieked Hermione, before Dementia revealed anything more. She smiled weakly. "Dementia is Trelawney's niece."  
  
Dementia frowned at Hermione. "I am no one's child but her Dark-"  
  
"Dementia's mother," amended Hermione. "Her mother's name is err, Darkon. They're Israeli." Hermione laughed nervously.  
  
"How do you two know each other?" questioned Ginny, taking a large bite of her chocolate-marshmallow-surprise ice cream.  
  
"Hermione created me," answered Dementia. She smiled at Ginny. "She made me from a mindless, piece of---"  
  
"I tutored her and arranged for her to gain admission into Hogwarts," interrupted Hermione. "Er, Dementia. Will you join me for a moment outside?"  
  
The "Israeli" girl beamed at Hermione. "Anything you wish, mistress."  
  
Hermione laughed nervously and dragged Dementia to a store across the alley.  
  
"She's a strange girl," commented Ginny as she watched Hermione tow Dementia.  
  
"She's perfect in every way," said Harry. Harry was utterly taken. It was like he had just kissed a Veela. Everything he thought of was about the new radiant creature he just met. Granted, she was a little strange. But so were most of his friends when he first met them-He didn't even like Hermione until after he rescued her from an evil troll.  
  
"You think so?" questioned Ron, taking another bite of his banana-raspberry- papaya ice cream. "Her obsession with homework is a bit irritating. I could live without that."  
  
"He's talking about Dementia, you prat," snickered Ginny. She turned around to see her friends. "Where'd they go?" Ginny spun around, searching for the girls. "They'll turn up. I wonder what they're talking about."  
  
"Have I failed you in some way? Are you displeased with me?" Dementia inquired hysterically as Hermione dragged her ruthlessly through the alley. "Please, let me throw the spear in my gut." She began to sob. "I'm a bad follower!"  
  
"Will you please shut up?" snapped Hermione at her hysterical adherent. "I just want to lay out some ground rules for when the fall term starts. Dumbledore is a noisy man. It will be a difficult enough task getting him to trust me, with my new looks etcetera."  
  
Dementia nodded dumbly, muting her sobs and wiping her tears,  
  
"Dementia, you cannot refer to me as your mistress in front of other people," instructed Hermione as they ducked into a shop in Knockturn Alley. "These are the rules, for when we arrive at school. You may not mention your past. If you are asked, you were born and raised in.Tel Aviv." Hermione paused after naming a large city in Israel. "Then, your mother, a witch, sent you to Hogwarts to get away from the er, suicide bombings. Understand?"  
  
"Yes, mistress," answered Dementia meekly. As an instrument of Hermione, she could not disobey.  
  
"And we may not mention Her Darkness!" urged Hermione. "The people at Hogwarts-especially the Gryffindors are perpetual do-gooders. They would not applaud how we seek justice on the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-An-Asshole."  
  
"Yes, mistress," answered Dementia. Hermione looked at her watch.  
  
"I will meet you in Knockturn Alley at 3 in the morning tomorrow. We in front of Occultenary Needs. Understand." Dementia nodded once more. "Good." Hermione took out her wand and muttered a spell at Dementia. The girl disappeared and Hermione smiled. Phase One was complete.  
  
"Only the weak seek revenge," quoted Hermione darkly. She smiled softly, glimpsing the form of Harry joking with Ron. "But only the strong seek justice."  
  
"Where did Dementia go?" demanded a very upset Harry as he saw Hermione approach the table alone.  
  
Stupid boy, thought Hermione. Always thinking with his pants, falling for the pretty girls. "Dementia had places to be. She had to. disappear." That's not a lie, thought Hermione. She did disappear.  
  
"So, Hermione. Have you finished your homework yet?" asked Harry.  
  
Hermione shot him a long look. "Let's think about that question Harry. You have known me for six year now. Do you think I've finished my essays?"  
  
"Yes," answered Harry nervously. He felt like he was in Professor McGonagall's classroom. If he answered wrong, would she transfigure him into a trout or something?  
  
"And I may assume," Hermione continued, "You were about to ask me for some help on your Potions essay about creating a more effective Wolfsbane potion, correct?"  
  
"Yes.."  
  
"Do it yourself," said Hermione dryly as she had some more ice cream.  
  
"Er, shall we go now?" questioned Ron nervously. He too had wanted to ask for Hermione's superior intellectual help on his homework. I'll ask later, he thought. And I'll bring up the fact that she's superiorly intellectual.  
  
"Certainly," agreed Hermione. She got up when she heard a startled gasp from Ginny.  
  
"Hermione," she exclaimed, pointing at Hermione's shoulder. "What happened to your shoulder?"  
  
Hermione cursed. She didn't realize she had exposed her mark to the world. She could say it was a Muggle thing, a tattoo? Hermione realized they were staring at her, waiting for an answer. She quickly invented a story. "I dropped a triangle into a fire and then Viktor picked it up and dropped it on my shoulder, branding me as a triangle-player for life," she invented.  
  
"You play the triangle?" Ron smiled. "That's great! You never cease to amaze me, Hermione."  
  
I wonder if I'll amaze them when I hurl their lifeless bodies off the astronomy towers and make it seem like suicide, thought Hermione. No, that's not poetic enough. It needs to be more gruesome.  
  
"HERMIONE!" shrieked Ginny. "I've been calling your name for the past five minutes. Do you want to go to Katie Bell's party tonight?"  
  
"Yes," answered Hermione.  
  
Ginny sighed, utterly perplexed. What was wrong with Hermione? Making jokes about joining the occult and agreeing to parties was not something Ginny was used to, from Hermione. This new, triangle-playing, Israeli-knowing, dark Hermione was different. And Ginny was going to find out why.  
  
(Author's Note: Don't you just love cliffhangers? They rock my non-existent socks. Comment: A reviewer said that this needed to be a higher rating. I think that's ridiculous. Yes, there's some language problems. But they're not cursing each other out.yet. Maybe in future chapters. Anyway, if the ratings go up, it's Fanfic.net, not me! I like it the way it is.  
  
Til tomorrow! 


	4. Harry Potter's Secret Love Affair With M...

(Author's Note: Keep rolling rolling rolling rolling.keep those chapters rolling.I wrote this chapter while babysitting. I know how twisted and warped that is, but the girl was taking a nap and I was rather bored. So, voila. Chapter Four.)  
  
Hermione surveyed the messy house and glanced at Ron. He grinned sheepishly and kicked aside some bottles and wrappers on the floor. "It's all Fred and George," he lied. "And Harry. He's the worst. And err, wait until you see Ginny's room." Ginny kicked him soundly in the leg. Her room was the cleanest of them all.  
  
Hermione said nothing. She was busy planning where she would have her fire that night. Luckily, the Weasleys owned a lot of land. It shouldn't be that difficult to sneak away, she realized. I'll apparate here from Katie Bell's party, then go out and praise the Goddess and thank her for today.  
  
Hermione thought back to earlier in the day, at Harry's awestruck expression when he first glimpsed Dementia. Although she tried to ignore it, she did feel a pang of jealousy. It's nothing, she told herself. I hate Harry and everything he represents. He is evil and used me. She spent several more moments reminding herself why she must insure Harry's demise when Ron interrupted her thoughts.  
  
"Hermione, what happened to your cat?" He looked at Hermione's trunk. "Did you leave Crookshanks at home?  
  
Hermione fixed her eyes on Ron. Crookshanks was still with her, but no longer as a cat. With her newfound powers, Hermione had transfigured her cat into a stunning creature her friends knew as Dementia. If only Harry knew he was infatuated with my cat, she giggled.  
  
HARRY POTTER'S SECRET LOVE AFFAIR WITH MY CAT, Hermione thought. It sounds like a headline from The Quibbler.  
  
"I left Crookshanks in Bulgaria," she said finally. "He became quite attached to Viktor's cat."  
  
"You gave that Viktor your cat!" gasped Harry. "But, Her-"  
  
"No buts, Harry!" Hermione felt her anger rising and struggled to control her rage. "I left my cat there for many reasons. One being I didn't want to take the risk of being splinched with my cat when I apparated to Diagon Alley! I've been turned into a cat too many times already," shuddered Hermione, recalling her Polyjuice Potion gone wrong in second year.  
  
"When did you learn how to apparate?" questioned Ginny.  
  
Whoops, thought Hermione. They're not supposed to know that. "I took the test while in Bulgaria," she invented them. "Anyway, Crookshanks likes Bulgaria."  
  
"I can't believe your gave your own cat to that Bulgarian git," commented Ron.  
  
"Why are you fixated on my cat?" demanded Hermione. "For God's sake Ron, you don't even like the damn animal!" She took a deep breath and calmed herself.  
  
"That was really creepy, Hermione." Harry looked at her uncomfortably. "When you yelled at Ron, your eyes seemed to get darker." He shook his head. "Maybe you're just adjusting to the climate?"  
  
"That's probably it Harry. I'm adjusting to the maritime climate of England, so my eyes changed color when I was angry," Hermione snapped. "Brilliant deduction." She took a deep breath. "So, what time is Katie's party?" she asked, eager to change the subject.  
  
"Not until nine," answered Harry. "So we have time to catch up on our lives and stuff. Why don't we go outside?" He smiled at Hermione. "You can tell us about Bulgaria, Ron can sulk in his jealous rage."  
  
"I'm not JEALOUS!" shrieked Ron. "And I don't sulk."  
  
"Yeah? Well, what do you call the month when you wouldn't talk to Hermione because you thought Crookshanks ate your rat?" quipped Ginny as she handed Hermione a tall glass of lemonade. She passed one to Harry and gave one to Ron.  
  
"That was grieving," answered Ron. "And I'm not jealous of that Bulgarian prat." Why should I be, he thought. Okay, so he's rich, famous, talented and foreign. I'm.none of those things," he realized sadly.  
  
"Hermione, why don't you and I take your trunk up to my room and Harry and Ron can wait outside?" asked Ginny, levitating Hermione's trunk.  
  
"Sure," answered Hermione. I wonder how I can convince her to join forces with Diana, pondered Hermione. I'll have to distinguish between Diana and Voldemort. Make sure she knows that Diana is about justice and Voldemort is lord of the weak mortals.  
  
"Give me some quick details about Viktor," demanded Ginny once they reached her room. "Come on, Mione," she pleaded. "A bit of the good stuff that we can't talk about in front of Ron or he'll hex me."  
  
"If he touches you, I'll throw him an Unforgivable," said Hermione without thinking. Ginny stopped her girlish teasing and gave a small laugh.  
  
"You've been telling the oddest jokes lately." She thought about where Hermione had been until recently and shrugged. "I guess it's a Bulgarian thing. Are you glad you went this summer?"  
  
"Yes," answered Hermione. "It was the best summer of my life." She recalled the first night Diana had contacted her and when she learned of the justice she could grant with her power. Justice for the strong, vengeance for the weak, Hermione reminded herself.  
  
The green bedspread on Ginny's guest bed looked welcoming to Hermione and she sat down upon it. Ginny wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and took Hermione's comment the wrong way. "In case you were wondering, I don't wear pink."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"The bridesmaid dresses! Redheads look awful in pink," elaborated Ginny.  
  
Hermione laughed. "You look good in everything. You'll look great in the bridesmaid gown. It really brings out your eyes."  
  
Ginny was horrified. "You're MARRYING him?" she shouted.  
  
"WHAT?" yelled Ron and Harry simultaneously from outside.  
  
"I'M KIDDING!" shouted Hermione. "I don't get this, Ginny. You laugh when I make jokes about Avada-ing your brother and you take me seriously when I tell you I'm going to marry Viktor Krum."  
  
Ginny shrugged. "I find it a lot more believable that you would marry a Quidditch superstar than willingly hurt one of your friends."  
  
Hermione laughed. That's going to change pretty quickly, she thought. Just wait to see your precious Harry when I'm through with him.  
  
(Author's Note: Yes, it's short. I might be able to upload tomorrow night, but don't count on it. My bro's going away to college and we need to be a FAMILY. We'll have to gather around the dinner table while my parents attempt to have a barbeque. Last time that happened, they all had burgers and I had my Boca burger (it's like a tofu burger) with homemade guacamole on it. I didn't feel very included in their traditional American family- ness.) 


	5. Nudity and Choking

(Author's Note: This is ridiculous. No one is reading the damn fanfic.so enjoy my mindless prattlings.)  
  
Hermione and Ginny ventured outside a few moments later, clutching their glasses of lemonade. Ginny settled herself in a chair next to Harry while Hermione made due with the last chair, one next to Ron.  
  
"So, Hermione ," began Ron as he nonchalantly stretched and dropped an arm over her shoulder. "Tell us about your summer." He took a sip of his lemonade, struggling to hold it in. He cast a look of desperation and anxiety to his best friend. Would she reject his first sign of other-than- friendly affection for her?  
  
"It was lovely," said Hermione. She glared at his arm as if it was a snake. "Did you know that Bulgarians sunbathe in the nude?" she said suddenly, reaching for her own glace of lemonade.  
  
Ron spat out a bit of his beverage, taking his arm off of Hermione. She smiled a little, seeing her ploy had worked.. Ginny was giggling and even Harry seemed a bit flustered. "The weather here is quite pleasant," observed Hermione, oblivious to her friends discomfort. "Did you have a lot of sun this summer?"  
  
"So Hermione," asked Ginny, still giggling. "Did Viktor sunbathe in the nude?" She appeared to struggle over the word nude, giggling like a toddler.  
  
"Mmhm. Everyone did.," confirmed Hermione. "This lemonade is quite excellent, Ginny."  
  
"Thank you," giggled Ginny. She turned to Harry. "Hermione's seen an international Quidditch star naked!"  
  
This revelation nearly caused Hermione to spit out her lemonade. She thought of the absurdity of this. She sells her soul to the Diana, the Roman goddess of the three forms-the moon, the earth, and the lower world, experiences a lot of sexual action with Viktor Krum, develops astonishing powers for one of her age-And her friends are astonished that she saw an athlete undressed.  
  
"So, was he." said Ginny. "You know..?"  
  
"What?" questioned Hermione. She was drawn out of her thoughts and glanced up at Ginny. "Was he what?"  
  
"You know!" exclaimed Ginny. Ron coughed and turned beet red. The thought of his affection gazing on another naked male was nauseating to him.  
  
"Virginia, can't you ask her these questions when you're alone? You know, where Harry and I don't have to hear about his.whatsit?" He blushed and turned to Hermione.  
  
"OH!" she gasped, realizing what they were asking her. She leaned over and whispered to Ginny. "It was more than proportional, believe me."  
  
Ginny let out a shriek. "We've spent way to much time on this subject," observed Harry, growing more and more worried as his best friend and other friend's sister were discussing something..so touchy.  
  
"Did you read any good books?" he asked Hermione, eager to change the subject.  
  
"Several, in fact." Hermione thought about which books to tell him about. Surely he'd grow suspicious of Raising the Bargain: When to Sell Your Soul. "I read The Accidental Woman by Barbara Delinsky," she informed him. "It was intriguing."  
  
"Did you sunbathe also?" interrupted Ron, gaining some control over his facial capillaries. His face was no longer bright read, just a little pink.  
  
"Obviously," answered Hermione. "How else did I get this golden tan?" Hermione didn't have a tan-as her friends noticed before, she was as pale as Malfoy.  
  
Ginny wasn't sure if it was the image of Hermione tanning or Viktor gazing at the sunbathing girl that caused Ron to choke. "Quick!" she shouted. "Herm, he's choking."  
  
"Oughtn't we do the Heimlich?" said Harry bleakly, looking at his choking friend. Ron made various motions, pointing to Ginny's wand.  
  
"Who's that?" cried Ginny. "Damn, how can you cure someone of choking?" She shook Hermione. "Save him!"  
  
Hermione was calmly sipping her lemonade as she held up a finger to quiet Ginny. "Panicking doesn't solve anything, Gin."  
  
"I'M NOT PANICIKNG, BUT MY BROTHER'S DYING!"  
  
By this time, Ron was turning purple and was on the verge of passing out. Why should I even bother to save him, thought Hermione. He's an irritating, infatuated chauvinist who hated my cat. He like Dementia, though.  
  
"Calm down," she scolded. She waved her hand in Ron's direction. "Recitium!" she chanted, thrusting a ball of energy towards her suffocating friend. The energy went down his mouth and cleared his throat. Ron sat up from the ground and looked at Hermione in fear/awe.  
  
"How'd you do that?" he whispered at the glowering Hermione. She did not appreciate having to show off her powers in front of her three incompetent friends. After using the dark magic, she always gave off a stronger aura than usual. Anyone with half a brain could figure out what she was doing.  
  
"I believe a thank you is in order," she snapped at Ron. "Honestly, some talk about naked people and you nearly die." Harry offered him a hand and Ron got up from the ground.  
  
"Sorry," he grinned sheepishly. "I've just never seen anyone do that."  
  
"Me neither," added Harry. "I don't remember learning that in Charms."  
  
"Well, perhaps if the two of you paid attention for once you might learn something!" explained Hermione.  
  
"Come on 'Mione," said Ginny. "Katie's party is in an hour. Want to go get ready?"  
  
"Fine," snapped Hermione to the boys. They hung their heads in mock shame. She turned and entered the house, Ginny at her heels.  
  
Ginny looked up at her friend. "Something's different about her," she mused. She gazed at the towering figure, her shadow dancing on the stairs. "It's not just the looks, the hair.Something's wrong."  
  
(Author's Note: Yes, I'm aware nothing happened. But I'm tired. Say, if you're looking for something interesting to do..download any music by the Lords of Acid. That's some R-rated stuff, pos!) 


	6. He Had His Wicked Way With Her!

(And here it is.the magical Chapter 6!)  
  
"What are you wearing?" asked Ginny, once they arrived in her room. Hermione opened her trunk and began rummaging through her trunk. She pulled out a black miniskirt and a sweater. Ginny laughed. "Herm, it's not a costume party."  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Hermione crossly. She was not having a good day. Between her cat seducing Harry, a disturbing conversation about seeing Viktor naked, and having to save Ron from dying, she was a bit disgruntled. "What do you think I'd be going as in this, a baked potato?"  
  
"I'm just saying that you don't wear clothes like that," soothed Ginny. She joined Hermione in her trunk. "Not to say you don't look gorgeous in these clothes.it's just that they're not you." She looked awkwardly at her friend. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"  
  
"No, I don't think I do," answered Hermione as she narrowed her eyes. She folded up the skirt and sat on her spare bed. "Enlighten me."  
  
"Well," stumbled Ginny. "It's just that you're Hermione-you like libraries and Hogwarts, A History. You're quiet.you don't like being the center of attention.It's just not like you to be showing off your body in clothes like these."  
  
Hermione was fuming. It was only her dream of converting Ginny to the Goddess that restrained her from cursing the redhead.  
  
One...I hate her! screamed Hermione as she began counting to ten. Two.I WANT TO HIT HER..THREE.WHY THE HELL IS SHE STARING AT ME LIKE THAT..4...WHO THE HELL DOES SHE THINK SHE IS, TELLING ME WHAT I LIKE AND WHAT I DON'T.FIVE.  
  
Hermione lost it at five. "Who do you think you are," she shouted at Ginny. "Telling me what I like and what I don't like. Just because I do my homework and get good grades doesn't mean I don't do fun things also!"  
  
"God, Hermione," said Ginny quietly. "I didn't know you felt like that. I'm sorry, I just didn't--"  
  
"Of course you didn't!" interrupted Hermione. "No one thinks I do other things! I saw your expression when I was talking about Viktor. You don't think he and I would willingly touch each other, do you?" Ginny was silent. "DO YOU?" Hermione huffed and rolled down her turtleneck. She pointed to a red mark on her neck. "WHAT'S THAT, GINNY? DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS?"  
  
"Hermione, is that a hickey?" exclaimed Ginny. She gaped in awe at her infuriated friend. ""Mione, I never thought you had it in you," she added tearfully.  
  
Hermione rolled down her shirt again and calmed down. "I didn't mean to yell, Gin," she apologized. "It's just that all of my friends just can't accept the fact that I'm a different person than they always thought."  
  
Ginny shrugged and found some of her own clothes to wear to the party. She threw on a pair of jeans and a blue shirt with a low neckline. "We don't need to impress anyone at the party, Herm." She ran a brush through her long red hair. "Just look natural," she added while applying Crimson Dawn lipstick to her mouth.  
  
Hermione was about to comment on the hypocrisy of the situation. ."Whatever," she responded. Similar to Ginny, she found a pair of jeans in her trunk and added a black tank top. Adding jewelry to her ensemble, she was pleased with her reflection.  
  
"Hermione, not to be rude or anything," began Ginny. Hermione looked up from braiding her hair. "But.your scar is rather prominent in what you're wearing."  
  
"She's right , dear," said Ginny's mirror as Hermione pondered what to do about her scar. "You might want to charm it, luv."  
  
To charm it into matching her skin tone was against everything Hermione stood for. By doing that, she was embarrassed of Diana, the woman to whom she owed everything too. But if Katie Bell or any of the guests at the party recognized it, her plan would be over before it could truly begin.  
  
"Merginary," Hermione chanted, pointing her wand to the triangular mark. She nodded at the mirror. "Thank you."  
  
"Not a problem," answered the mirror as it went back to reflecting.  
  
"You know," said Hermione. "We have a half hour before we have to leave for the party. Why don't you go downstairs and I'll finish unpacking?"  
  
"Sounds fine," answered Ginny as she got up from her bed. She paused at the door and turned to look at her friend. "Are you sure you don't need any help?" she questioned.  
  
Hermione laughed and waved a hand. "It's just putting my robes in the closet. I'll be done in fifteen minutes," she predicted.  
  
"Okay." Ginny left Hermione to her unpacking and went outside to join the boys.  
  
"Something is very wrong with Hermione," declared Ron. Harry shrugged.  
  
"Why, because she didn't want your arm around her? No offense mate, but I'd do the same thing if you were to start putting your moves on me." He took another swing of his lemonade.  
  
"Yeah, but the whole fiasco about seeing Viktor naked.that wasn't very Hermione-y like of her." Ron, having recovered from another near-death experience was pondering why Hermione had not been responding to his flirtations.  
  
"No," agreed Harry. "You're right about that."  
  
"You heard her scream at Ginny just now." Ron cocked his head to the house. "She was really letting her have it. Have you ever known Hermione to yell at anyone like that?"  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Besides me," added Ron hastily.  
  
"No," said Harry simply. "It's probably stress," he added a moment later.  
  
"Stress? From what?"  
  
"You know Hermione," shrugged Harry. "She has to be perfect in everything. She's probably spent her summer reading The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six. She's probably taken every single practice N.E.W.T. that she could find."  
  
"True, but she's always been like that," argued Ron. "You don't think anything happened to her in Bulgaria, do you?"  
  
"What do you mean, 'something horrible'," asked Harry ominously.  
  
"Something horrible happened to who?" asked Ginny, bounding out of the house with another pitcher of lemonade. She quickly refilled everyone's glasses, starting with her own.  
  
"Hermione," answered Ron. "We think she's so grumpy and stressed because something happened to her in Bulgaria."  
  
"Maybe not Bulgaria," said Harry suddenly. "You heard what she was saying to Dementia.." A slight blush and smile came to his face at the mention of her name.  
  
Ginny scowled. She'd been spending the past two weeks flirting shamelessly with Harry, and now this Israeli tart waltzes into their lives and already the boy is infatuated. "What was she saying to Dementia?"  
  
"Well, maybe Hermione went to visit Dementia in Israel and she was on a bus and a suicide bomber or a Death Eater or something came on board and tried to kill everyone but she managed to save everyone with her knowledge of magic," said Harry intelligently.  
  
"I'm beginning to see why Hermione is the brains of this group," she commented to a nearby shrub. Harry and Ron ignored this and stared at each other in shock.  
  
"That must be it," breathed Ron. "She's suffering from some kind of post- traumatic shock."  
  
"I guess so," agreed Harry thoughtfully. He took another gulp of his lemonade.  
  
"But what if.oh my God, what if it was something that happened in Bulgaria!" gasped Ron. "What if.that prat Viktor drugged her, dragged her off to his secret lair and had his .wicked way with her!"  
  
"Had his wicked way with her?" quoted Ginny dumbly.  
  
"Oh god, we're so insensitive!" cried Harry to Ron. "Here we are, you flirting with her, me gaping at her friends."  
  
Ginny smiled to herself at the plural of Hermione's friends.  
  
"We even invited her to a party tonight!" exclaimed Ron. "What if it was at a Bulgarian Welcome party that Viktor slipped her something in her non- alcoholic wine in order to make her more susceptible to him?"  
  
"Non-alcoholic wine?" repeated Ginny.  
  
"Of course Ginny." Harry rolled his eyes at her. "Hermione wouldn't touch alcohol. It's a drug, you know," he informed her.  
  
"This from the boy who chugged an entire bottle of Madame Rosmerta's Hard Butterbeer last night," said Ginny again to the shrub.  
  
"We have to protect her!" shouted Harry, pounding his hand on the table. Had Ginny not restrained the lemonade pitcher, it would have spilled over the edge.  
  
"That's right!" emphasized Ron. "NOBODY messes with the trio. Especially the 33% of it that's female and I'm in love with."  
  
Harry and Ron nodded to each other in a very masculine way. Ginny sighed.  
  
"I wonder who the godfather will be," said Ron absently as he poured himself more of the lemony beverage.  
  
"Probably me," answered Harry tactlessly.  
  
"What'd you mean?" asked Ron threateningly.  
  
"Well, face it Ron. I'm more dependable," explained Harry. "Hermione and you are constantly bickering and you don't know the first thing about children, nevertheless anything about religion. Add to that the fact that you're romantically interested in her.No, Ron. It would never work," declared Harry.  
  
"Oh," said Ron.  
  
"So now she's pregnant?" asked Ginny.  
  
"I hope so," said Harry. "It'd be nice to have a little Gryffindor running around Hogwarts."  
  
"They have completely lost their minds," Ginny informed the shrub. "Utterly nutters."  
  
"We have to be very careful with Hermione now," Ron commented to Harry. "She's very vulnerable and she's probably scared."  
  
"We have to assure her that we're here for her. She's going to need us during this school year," predicted Harry.  
  
(In Ginny's Room) "Eye of newt, testicles of a guinea pig." muttered Hermione. "Horn of an albino rhinocerous." She gathered all of her ingredients in a bag. "Tonight I begin Phase Two: Operation Seduction.  
  
Author's Note: oooa cliffhanger! Don't you all just love me? I'll update again tomorrow, or possibly Friday. But before the week is out, mon lieblings! 


	7. Attending the Mixer

(Author's Note: And finally, here is the long-awaited party scene! Long awaited by my lovely nine reviewers who make my day. Also, in this fanfic Ginny is NOT dating Dean Thomas.it would make things too confusing and it's already confusing.)  
  
Disclaimer: The people aren't mine, although I wish they were. Dan Radcliff is quite a looker.  
  
"Hermione, are you ready to go?" called Ginny from the hall. She added a bit of silver shimmer on her eyelids and reapplied her lip-gloss. She pursed her lips and turned to Harry. "I wonder what she's doing."  
  
Harry shrugged and stared at Ginny's made-up face. She's changed a lot from the eleven-year old girl who sent me a singing telegram, he pondered.  
  
"HERMIONE!" howled Ron. She ran down the stairs, combing her hair hastily. Like Ginny, she was wearing some kind of sparkly makeup that glistened in the light.  
  
"You look very nice," said Ron awkwardly.  
  
Harry snickered. "You're such a loser," he commented to Ron.  
  
Ron blushed. "Shut up." He walked over to the fireplace and threw some Floo powder on the flame. The fire roared iridescently, the emerald flames gleaming. "Bell Place," he called, stepping into the fire. He disappeared.  
  
"Why do all these wizard homes have names?" asked Harry. "The Burrow, Malfoy Manor, Bell Place."  
  
Ginny shrugged. "The three you named are all old wizarding families. We've been around forever and most of the houses are old. They just got names."  
  
In turn, Ginny, Harry and Hermione each disappeared into the fireplace However, the fireplace that they stepped out of was very different. Unlike the haphazardly messy living room at the Weasley's home, the Bell's living room was immaculate. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling while numerous crystal bric-a-brac was placed around the room. A pristine white carpet graced the floors and a gleaming grand piano stood in a corner.  
  
"Damn," whispered Ron as he shook soot of his foot. "If I had known this place was so fancy, I would've worn underwear."  
  
"Ron, that was an over share of information," commented Hermione. Shaking cinders off of her jeans, she bent to hop off of the fireplace.  
  
"Here, let me carry you," urged Ron, thinking of the baby.  
  
"What?" exclaimed an outraged Hermione. A child like you, holding a representative of the great Diana? "You will do no such thing," she added stiffly as she made a dignified hop to the floor.  
  
"Suit yourself," mumbled Ron. It was at that moment that their hostess arrived.  
  
"Harry! Ginny! Ron!" exclaimed Katie, offering each person an air kiss in turn. She gazed at Hermione. ".Hermione?" she asked tentatively.  
  
Hermione grinned. "That's me," she said boldly.  
  
Katie gave her a brief hug. "You look different then the last time I saw you." She thought for a moment. "Of course, the last time I saw you were unconscious after being attacked by a Death Eater, so I guess you would look different."  
  
"I spent most of the holiday in Bulgaria, with Viktor Krum," added Hermione. Katie wrinkled her nose.  
  
"Strange dude, awesome Quidditch player," she commented. She motioned to her friends. "The party's downstairs. Dean, Seamus, your brothers, Angelina and Alicia are already here."  
  
"It's a bloody Gryffindor reunion," thought Hermione. "All we need is-"  
  
"Neville!" exclaimed Ginny, offering a hand to the boy in the fireplace. "I didn't think you would come."  
  
Neville shrugged and shook the cinders off of his feet. "I didn't have anything better to do."  
  
"We're following Katie to where the party is now," instructed Ginny. She grinned at Neville and began to follow Katie.  
  
Hermione was surprised. From what she gathered from Katie's jabbering in the past few moments, her parents were away on a vacation in the south of France and Northern Italy. Katie had not struck her as the kind of girl to host a party while her parents were away, but then again she wasn't one to make stereotypes. She wasn't exactly the Poster Girl for those who sold their soul to pagan deities.  
  
"Little brother!" exclaimed Fred and George as the six people entered the party room. They got up and gave their sibling a manly hug.  
  
"Is this my little sister?" said Fred, horror-struck. He grinned and hugged Ginny. "You look ravishing, my dear."  
  
(A/N: I usually don't like to use the word "ravishing" because of the origin. In the good old days of yore, "to ravish" was a verb that meant "to rape." So ravishing means rape-able, which I don't find a flattering compliment. Anyway.)  
  
Ginny blushed and giggled. "You saw me yesterday."  
  
"Oh. Right," said George. He turned his attentions to Hermione. "'Mione.I have no words," he said hopelessly.  
  
Fred snatched her hand and kissed it fiercely. "How about "Marry Me?"  
  
Hermione laughed. Despite their obnoxious younger brother, the Weasley twins could be rather charming.  
  
"Viktor might have a comment or two about that," piped Ginny, smothering her mused hair.  
  
"Did you really spend the summer with the greatest Quidditch player in the world?" asked Alicia Spinnet eagerly.  
  
Hermione sat on the couch and shrugged. "Yeah." She pointed to the mini- bar. Dean was having a grand time playing bartender. "Mix me something?"  
  
"Hermione, is that really a good idea?" asked Harry nervously. He poked Ron in the ribs.  
  
"Yeah, maybe you should lay off the alcohol for the next few months."  
  
"Say, nine."  
  
Ginny was quite literally cracking up on the floor by now. It was apparent that Ron and Harry were quite taken by their pregnancy theory.  
  
Dean passed Hermione a butterbeer mixed with fire whiskey. She took the glass and regarded Ron and Harry curiously.  
  
"Seriously, Hermione." Ron walked towards her. "Consuming alcohol can leave to birth defects."  
  
"What in the name of the Goddess are you talking about?" asked Hermione, utterly bemused. She took a swing of her drink and looked puzzled.  
  
Ginny was in hysterics, while the rest of the gang were looking intently upon Hermione and Ron.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about the BABY!"  
  
Hermione spat out a bit of her drink. Hastily grabbing a napkin, she wiped off her face and turned to Ron. "What?" she shouted at him.  
  
"This is getting interesting," commented Fred to George. "We're going to be uncles!" He exchanged a high five with his twin. He turned to Ginny, collapsing with laughter. "Did you know about this?" "No," she answered, shuddering in laughter. "I cannot say I did." "Alright, let's get this straight." Hermione held up a finger. "One: I have never done anything with Ron that would result in pregnancy." "Oh," cried a disappointed Fred. "I was looking forward to seeing the little red-haired tyke running amongst the gnomes in the garden," he added tearfully. "There, there Fred," said George. "Maybe it's not Ron's.  
  
"Two," continued Hermione. "To my knowledge, I am not having any kind of spawn. And three, wherever did you get that idea?"  
  
Ron looked nervously at Harry. "Well," began Harry. "You were quite irritable when we returned to the Burrow, that Ron made a comment about mood swings.and something about pregnancy came up. and Ginny told us you were," he finished lamely.  
  
"They believe Viktor drugged you and to quote my brother "had his wicked way with you," translated Ginny. "I was merely an onlooker."  
  
"Alright then," commented Dean. "More drinks?"  
  
"Hey," whispered Seamus. "Maybe if we get Hermione and Ginny drunk enough, they'll kiss!" He smiled at Dean. "Um, right," answered Dean. "Maybe." He looked at Seamus quizzingly and mixed some more drinks.  
  
(Up next.Harry Potter and the Cliché Fan fiction-in which they play Truth or Dare! Yeah. For anyone wondering, the lumberjack will be introduced at Hogwarts.) 


	8. Corrected Penguins and Sexual Fantasies

(A/N- Lots of thanks to Mina33 who corrected the original post of this  
story. I had written Fitch instead of Filch.bloody spell check Again,  
a huge thank you to my lovely reviewers. You all made my day! Anyway,  
my pal Scurvy and I were play the Shipper game a few days ago and have  
been trying to figure out the most disgusting Harry Potter  
combination. So far the winner is Molly Weasley/Percy. EW! The second  
is Harry Potter/Janet Reno. For anyone who doesn't know who Janet Reno  
is, she's the former Attorney General or something of the U.S. She's  
very unattractive.like run over with a truck ugly. But I love her  
anyway. My plan is to write a fanfic for the most disgusting combo to  
emerge. Any suggestions?)  
  
Although Dean did not purposely try to get Ginny drunk, she quickly succeeded in getting drunker than Whitney Houston at the Grammys. It was only Ginny though. Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia, Neville.even Katie was starting to look a little tipsy.  
  
"It's us Muggle-borns," Hermione confided in Dean. "We just have better heads for the hard stuff." She giggled a little bit and Dean shot her a charming smile.  
  
"I bet that's why you and I are still sober," agreed Dean as he poured some more shots for them. "Cheers," he said, sliding her a glass. They clinked glasses and downed their Jack Daniels. Hermione laughed again and slunk back to the couch.  
  
"So, then Filch was all like, "Hey! You levitate that penguin back to where it came from or else I'll use that whip I got from a sorceress in Chechnya!" finished Fred. Obviously, he and George were reminiscing about when they were innocent first years.  
  
"How'd you get the penguin there in the first place?" asked Ron, completely transfixed by his brother's adventures with an Arctic bird.  
  
"We camaflogued a portkey to look like a fish when we were in Alaska," lied George.  
  
"Penguins don't live in Alaska," Hermione informed them as she took a seat next to Neville.  
  
"Well, how would you know, Miss Know-It-All?" asked Fred indignantly. "Ever been to Alaska?"  
  
"Actually, yes," fibbed Hermione.  
  
"Did you see any polar bears?" inquired Ginny, who was practically sitting on Harry's lap.  
  
"Polar bears don't live in Alaska," Harry informed them. "They have wolfs or something."  
  
"Wolves, Harry. Not wolfs," corrected Hermione, struggling to ignore a wave of annoyance building up in her stomach.  
  
"Thanks, Herm." He shot her a lopsided grin. "That Hermione," he turned to Ron. "She knows everything. Not one spell she doesn't know, not one fact she doesn't know."  
  
How about what I ever saw in you, Hermione asked herself.  
  
"Let's play a game!" exclaimed Katie, wobbling a little as she jumped to her feet. "It's getting a little boring just sitting on my couch and wallowing in my drunkednessity."  
  
"What game?" asked Ron. He gazed hopefully at Hermione. "Seven Minutes of Heaven?"  
  
Katie wrinkled her nose. "Um.I don't think so."  
  
"Spin the Bottle?" suggested Dean, mixing Fred another margarita.  
  
"Too juvenile," said Katie, sipping her Butterbeer.  
  
"Dude, something's wrong with this," said Fred, gazing at his margarita. "You put salt in my drink."  
  
"How about Truth or Dare?" suggested George, watching his twin argue with the bartender.  
  
"Sure!" agreed Katie. Hermione smirked.  
  
"And you say Spin the Bottle's too juvenile?" she scoffed. She turned to Dean. "Dean," she whispered. "I need you to give me an entire bottle of the strongest stuff you have. If I say or do anything stupid, I want to claim I'm drunk."  
  
Dean nodded. "Not a bad idea." He grabbed a bottle of straight whiskey and divided it between two 32 -ounce glasses. Grabbing his mug, he joined his friends in the circle.  
  
"Alright, Harry," began Katie. "Truth or Dare."  
  
"Truth," answered Harry. "I'm too drunk to get up." Katie smiled and turned to Neville.  
  
"Nev, be a dear and hand me the bottle on the bottom shelf over there?" she pointed to a bookshelf. Neville obliged and handed Katie the glass bottle. Katie poured a little of it into a glass and left an eyedropper out. "Open," she instructed Harry. She poured two drops into Harry's mouth.  
  
"I just gave you a drop of Veritaserum (Author's Note: No clue how to spell it. Truth Potion thing, you know what I mean?). Now, Harry," she continued. She smiled devilishly at Ron. "Harry, what's your greatest fantasy?"  
  
"Ginny in a leather skirt with a whip and me chained to her bed," he said without hesitation.  
  
MISOGYNISTIC CREEP! screamed Hermione inside. Her friends merely laughed. Harry shook his head and blushed. Ginny smiled uncertainly.  
  
"All right Hermione," said Harry. "Truth or Dare?"  
  
Shit, cursed Hermione. If I pick Truth, I'm screwed. She sighed and took the former. "Dare?"  
  
"I dare you to kiss Ron!" Harry giggled. Hermione laughed. Here she was, worried they were going to worm out her inner secrets about the Dark One and they merely want a kiss.  
  
She leaned over and pecked Ron. "No, no!" corrected Harry. "You have to REALLY kiss him!" He laughed in his drunken stupor.  
  
Hermione's hand flew into her pocket and she grabbed her wand, about to curse Harry into empty oblivion. Can't do that, she corrected herself. She faked a smile and smiled and shrugged. "What the hell," she said. "I'm drunk, he's drunk.you're all drunk.okay."  
  
She leaned over to Ron, who was nonchalantly trying to check his breath. It reeked of alcohol, but he tried to assure himself that was okay. Hermione's probably did to. After she gave him one of those long, suave, minute long movie-star kisses, she pulled away and turned to Ginny.  
  
"Okay, Gin. Truth or Dare?"  
  
"Dare," said Ginny eagerly. Watching Hermione snog her brother had given her an idea. No, it wasn't that she should snog her brother. Ginny was merely hoping that her dare would be to snog Harry.  
  
It was if Hermione was reading Ginny's thought and twisting them. "Dare you to snog Seamus."  
  
Making a face, Ginny complied. The game continued for sometime, revealing secrets of the Weasly Twins (they put a memory charm on Filch after one prank), strip teases by Neville, and Ron's secret dendrophiliac.  
  
"It wasn't so secret," Harry told him, seeking to release him of his drunken embarrassment. "We all saw how you looked at the Whomping Willow."  
  
"All right Hermione," said Harry, as the game made a full circle and returned to her. "Truth or Dare."  
  
"Dare," said Hermione again.  
  
"Alright," said Harry. "I dare you to take a drop of the truth potion and tell us who you fancy the most that's here."  
  
"STUPID LITTLE MOTHERF*CKING ASSHOLE," shrieked Hermione. "Harry, that was one of the lowest things I've ever seen or heard in my entire life, and remember I've watched everyone of your Quidditch matches and attended all your Potions classes as well."  
  
Harry brushed off the insult and handed the eyedropper to Hermione. She obligingly took a drop. "Who do you fancy here?" asked Harry wickedly.  
  
Had she been sober, Hermione would have thought about how remarkably cunning it was of Harry to ask this question. Even the wording, "Who do you fancy that's HERE?" was remarkable. The wording forbids her to answer Viktor, as he was not at the party. But there was one choice Hermione saw that was not only the truth, but also a plausible answer.  
  
"Myself," answered Hermione clearly.  
  
Harry felt his mouth drop open. "I think that was the most egotistical thing I've ever heard."  
  
"So, you have a crush on yourself?" asked Seamus in interest.  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yeah!"  
  
"Well.if you're ever going to do something about that.could you tape it? Please?" he begged her.  
  
Hermione laughed and the game continued for a few more turns. At last, they all began growing tired of the game. "Ok, Harry," declared Hermione. "We want to stop playing and since the game began with you, we're going to end with you also."  
  
"You are aware that that doesn't make sense?" asked Harry.  
  
"Shut up. By the way, you're picking truth."  
  
Harry shrugged and took a sip of Veritaserum. "Fire away," he said dryly.  
  
Hermione grinned to herself. She had thought the game of Truth or Dare was going to be hazardous to Operation Seduction, but she had just thought of a brilliant way to help turn Ginny to the dark side.  
  
"Who would you rather snog-Dementia or Ginny?" questioned Hermione, fearing the answer. Ginny would make sense. He said his utmost sexual fantasy was kinky sex with Ginny, but.  
  
"Dementia," revealed Harry without wavering. Ginny clasped a hand to her mouth and removed herself from Harry's lap.  
  
Yes, thought Hermione. He's a filthy little bastard, isn't he? She feigned a disappointed frown at Harry for old times sake.  
  
Don't like your little Harry quite so much anymore, do you Ginny?  
  
(Wow, that's never been done before.(Z snickers sarcastically.) Sorry for any of you out there who didn't like it. I had this whole dramatic scene planned where Hermione was revealed, but it's kind of hard to write an angsty and dramatic scene when your kitten is purring like mad and sleeping on top of your monitor. I'll try to post again tomorrow, no school!.) 


	9. Drink it and Deal

(Authors Note: Greetings! Here goes.now the drama starts)  
  
"We should probably go," said Hermione after a pause. "Ron, your parents are getting back from Romania tomorrow and I don't think they would appreciate the dirty house you've left. Plus you'll have more time to get rid of the killer hangovers you're going to have."  
  
"Ah, Herm!" whined Ron. "Can't you just make us a potion?" He looked at her pleadingly.  
  
"If you can drink it, you should deal with the consequences," Hermione snapped. "Now get into the fireplace."  
  
Harry, Ron, Fred and George in turn mumbled their "thanks yous" and goodbyes to Katie and the rest of the party while Ginny sat catatonically on the coach.  
  
"Are you okay?" asked Hermione once the boys had left. Ginny sighed.  
  
"I'm mad at myself. You know, Harry used to be my idol." Ginny stopped and looked at her friend. Poor girl, thought Hermione. "He was everything I thought a person could be-Brave, smart, good at Quidditch, ruggedly attractive with such craggy features, he has the shaggy mop of black hair that falls into his eyes-"  
  
"Okay, I get it," interrupted Hermione irritably.  
  
Ginny sighed. "I never thought he would like me back. But this summer, Hermione.You only got here today; you don't know what it was like. We had hot cocoa every night, the three of us would bring our sleeping bags out and spend the night under the stars." She turned and gazed fiercely at her friend. "He was starting to look at me as a person, Hermione. Not as his friend's kid sister but as his own friend." She looked like she was going to cry. "Maybe even more than that. And that cheap Palestinian slut-"  
  
"Israeli. Don't confuse them, they don't like that," corrected Hermione.  
  
"Whatever." A treacherous tear slid down Ginny's cheek. "That Israel just waltzes into his life today, with her unfocused eyes and her cryptic answers to questions and her damn perfect hair."  
  
Hermione started to giggle. Ginny was jealous of Crookshanks.  
  
"Don't laugh!" cried Ginny. Hermione sobered, unlike the rest of the party who had gone back to the bar and were pouring some more Butterbeer. "I know you think I'm just a crazy girl, Hermione. And I am!" She let another tear drip from her eye. "I was crazy about Harry."  
  
"And he wants that Israeli slut," agreed Hermione.  
  
"Isn't she your friend?" sniffled Ginny.  
  
"Friend, shmiend," waved Hermione. "Doesn't change the fact that she's a slut." Again, not a lie thought Hermione. Crookshanks had been having a little fling with Lavender's cat, Miss Kitty.  
  
"You probably call me that behind my back to your friends also," wept Ginny. Hermione bent to comfort the sobbing girl.  
  
"There are many things wrong with that statement," she proclaimed. "Number one, what other friends? Do you think Ron would allow me to call his sister a slut?" Ginny smiled weakly and Hermione continued. "Two, I would never talk about you. And three.you did nothing wrong. There's something wrong with Harry! Not with you!"  
  
Ginny brightened up at that. "You see Ginny," began Hermione. "Once I was too but an innocent young girl and I also fancied myself in love with that prat. But he didn't see me for the marvelous creature that I am, so I got over him."  
  
By selling my soul to extract vengeance, she added silently.  
  
"But that doesn't mean I don't want to hurt him badly," she said soothingly. "Painfully.in the nether regions, if you know what I mean."  
  
"Yeah," agreed Ginny. "He needs a swift kick in the balls."  
  
Hermione laughed. "Maybe something worse. Like magically removing one of them."  
Ginny laughed too. "Is there a spell for that?"  
  
YES! Cried Hermione silently. If you have the power, there's a spell for everything! "Probably," said Hermione. "We're just not powerfully enough witches to do it yet."  
  
"Dumbledore is powerful," pointed out Ginny.  
  
"Yes, Virginia," said Hermione sarcastically. "Let's get Pig in here. We'll send Dumbledore a lovely letter. Dear Headmaster-We were wondering if you could do a testicular removal spell on your favorite pupil, the Boy-Who- Lived. You know, the one who is our only hope in defeating Voldemort? Have a good holiday!"  
  
"I think we're still drunk," commented Ginny.  
  
"It's quite possible," agreed Hermione. "Come on, let's go back to The Burrow." They bid their hostess goodbye and quickly hugged the other guests, promising to meet them at King's Cross before the train left on Monday.  
  
Meanwhile, back at the Burrow  
  
"Wonder what's keeping Hermione and Gin," questioned Harry as he resumed his cleaning spells on Ron's house.  
] "Who knows?" answered Ron as he began rearranging the living room furniture. "Ginny's probably hitting on Dean or someone."  
  
"Or Hermione," yelled George from across the house.  
  
"Hermione would never do something like that," Ron assured himself. "She doesn't care for other men-"  
  
"Do you mean she doesn't care for men at all or she only cares for you," asked Harry, amused at his friend's protection on his friend.  
  
"She only cares for me!" exclaimed Ron. "You saw how she kissed me," he added smugly.  
  
"She would have done the same with your brother," commented Harry. "It was just a stupid dare."  
  
With a loud POP, Hermione and Ginny stepped out of the fireplace. Deciding to settle this debate while it was still fresh, Harry seized the moment. "Hermione, would you have kissed Fred or George if I dared you?"  
  
"Sure," answered Hermione flippantly as she shook her clothes out. "All dares are fair play." She turned to her friend. "Ginny, you've got a boot of soot on your hair."  
  
"Ha," mouthed Harry to Ron.  
  
Hermione glanced at the only clock that actually told the time in the Weasley home. 12:50. She had to contact Diana before sunrise, so she figured to get an hour or so's amount of sleep and then slip out. Tonight had been good, she decided. Diana deserved a sacrifice.  
  
"Well, I suppose I'll turn in now," said Hermione with false cheer. "Night!"  
  
She climbed the stairs to Ginny's bedroom and pondered what the correct gift for her divine mistress was.  
  
Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took a bit longer than the norm. I was involved in writing a love poem to Punjab, my would-be lover. Yes, ours is a forbidden love. Truth be told, I think there is a law against it. At least for another two years. 


	10. The Legend of the Lumberjack and the Dar...

Author's Note: Hello once more. Yes, I know it's been longer since my last but the dreaded school started last Monday and it's absolutely awful. I just spent the past hour writing an essay on character traits I share with a seal. Anyway.chapter ten is a bit different than the other chapters. It's a lot darker. But on the bright side, we hear the Legend of the Lumberjack. So cheer up, me hearties!  
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter etc. belongs to Rowling.the definitions about Diana are from Mythology.  
  
Trudging through the hallways, Hermione tuned out the voices of the Weasleys and Harry as she pondered on a gift for Diana. The evening had been a blessing, besides that one little incident where Hermione had to put her tongue into Ron's mouth. That was something I could have lived without, she thought to herself.  
  
Entering Ginny's room, Hermione opened up her trunk and pulled out a copy of Ancient Mythology. Even before her role as Diana's representative, Hermione had been fascinated with the Greek and Roman gods and goddesses.  
  
She thumbed through the book, searching for a passage about a proper sacrifice for Diana, or Artemis (Diana's Greek name). "The cypress tree is sacred to her, and all wild animals; especially the deer." Hermione turned and looked pensively out the darkened window, into the moonless sky.  
  
"Tonight is a perfect time for a sacrifice," she realized. "Moonless sky, under a cypress tree.I'm sure there is a deer running about somewhere." She chuckled. "Tonight, You take all three forms, Goddess," she cried softly with her head out of the window. "Goddess of the sky, goddess of the earth, Goddess of the black night where the moon is hidden, the world above that is wrapped in darkness."  
  
She closed her eyes and listened intently to Harry's laughter floating upwards. Hermione grit her teeth. "Tonight, my Goddess of Crossroads," she whispered. "Tonight we'll meet."  
  
Hermione hurriedly placed some items for her ritual in a black canvas bag and hid it near the window. Sighing contently, she hopped into her bed and settled down for a short nap.  
  
While in the kitchen.  
  
"Want some ice cream, Ginny?" offered Harry as he sat on top of the Weasley's kitchen table, eating out of an ice cream carton. Ginny regarded him for a moment.  
  
"Harry, we're supposed to be cleaning," she chided. "Not sitting on furniture and eating."  
  
Harry shrugged and took another bite of his Brownie-Chocolate Chip ice cream. "It looks to me like you're the only one cleaning."  
  
He was right. Fred and George did a brief mopping spell on the floor to wipe up mud and then, bored with cleaning had begun a game of Exploding Snap.  
  
"What's so intriguing about Exploding Snap?" snapped Ginny, dusting a counter. "It seems that whenever someone gets bored, they just start to play Exploding Snap. The common room, Hogwarts express." she trailed off.  
  
"Gin, what's wrong?" asked Harry, stuffing his mouth of the dessert.  
  
"Hogwarts!" she gasped. "I haven't done my Potions essay! It's supposed to be three feet long! And in History of Magic I have to write a report on the founding of Diagon Alley! And.I have tons of homework and we're leaving for school in.28 hours!" She screamed and ran out of the room.  
  
Harry shrugged. "Ask Hermione to help you," he called after he. He turned to Ron, who was pretending to vacuum.  
  
"How does this thing even work?" asked Ron in disgust. "I don't understand." He shook his head. "Dad brought it back from one of his raids, telling Mum it would make cleaning easier." He waved the chord. "What do I do with this?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "Aunt Petunia used to vacuum. I just mowed the lawn."  
  
"Ron likes to de-gnome the lawn and work with the trees." snickered Fred, looking up from his game.  
  
"It's alright, we all know about Ron and his .tree fetish." added George.  
  
"Yeah," commented Harry. "I happen to know the real reason Ron calls it the "Whomping Willow."  
  
George looked at his twin and both of them grew somber for a moment. "Seriously Ron," said George cautiously. "You shouldn't do things like that to the Whomping Willow."  
  
"For God's sake, I don't do things to the Whomping Willow," snapped Ron, getting strongly irked by the teasing.  
  
"That's good," praised Fred. "Cause you know what would happen if you did."  
  
"What?" questioned Harry. "He'd get splinters?" He laughed at his clever joke.  
  
Fred shook his head. "No, man. Don't you know about the lumberjack?" He raised an eyebrow and looked at his nervous brother.  
  
"The what-er-jack?" he asked in confusion.  
  
"Lumber-jack," pronounced George. His voice grew mysterious. "You've seriously never heard of him?"  
  
"No, never."  
  
Harry shook his head. "I've never heard of him either.  
  
Fred turned to his twin. "Shall I elucidate them?" he asked.  
  
George nodded. "By all means, dear brother."  
  
"Well, the story goes that far on the western edge of the Forbidden Forest, a lumberjack lives. When he went to school, he was like Snape and all those other losers-always trying to past the Whomping Willow." He shook his head. "Pranksters with no talent, no plans.horrible."  
  
"They used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk-"  
  
"I'm starting to remember," recalled Harry. "A boy lost an eye."  
  
"Yes! Ten points to Gryffindor, Harry," said Fred, mimicking Professor McGonagall. "He left the school shortly after, reportedly going to St. Mungo's."  
  
"He claimed that the Whomping Willow used mind tricks to lure him closer to the trunk."  
  
"He left St. Mungo's after three years, vowing that the Whomping Willow will never have another victim as he was. They say he approached Dumbledore and is the Whomping Willow's watcher. He watches the tree at all times, preparing and plotting a time when he can fully reveal it's use of the Impervious curse."  
  
"Course, he is mad," amended Fred, reading Harry and Ron's bewildered expressions.  
  
"But where was he when we were in third year?" asked Harry. "When Sirius-" He felt a slight tremor in his voice, saying the name, "was living in the Shrieking Shack, and Crookshanks was going in there."  
  
"In case you don't remember, the tree broke my leg," pondered Ron. "Why didn't this lumberjack save me?"  
  
Fred shrugged. "How should I know?" He glanced at the clock. "I'm going to bed now. See ya in the morning." His twin followed him out, leaving Harry and Ron to mull over what they just heard.  
  
"Do you believe it?" asked Ron, staring at Harry's pensive expression.  
  
"I don't know," said Harry slowly. "It seems plausible.. after all, there was so much going on that day, and between the hippogriff and the tree and Dumbledore maybe he had told Dumbledore what happened?"  
  
"I don't know," admitted Ron. "But the twins had a good idea. I'm going to sleep also."  
  
"Yeah, good idea." Harry and Ron began walking up the stairs, not noticing Hermione's figuring catapulting off the roof.  
  
"Oof," mumbled Hermione as she landed on the hard ground. "Now why didn't I just apparate?" She brushed herself off and picked up her bag, making sure all her materials were intact. She smiled and set off to find the cypress tree. She grabbed her wand. "Lumos," she whispered. The wand showed a beacon of light streaming in her path. Hermione turned her head towards the stars.  
  
The first thing she saw in the clear night was Mars. Mars is bright tonight.Harry had told her the story of the centaur and the unicorn in first year. But instead of thinking about Voldemort, she found herself quoting a Muggle movie.  
  
"Nothing ever happens on Mars, no entertainment, no swinging bars." She walked a little faster, searching for the tree. "You stand around, you stand some more.on a planet named for the Roman God of war. "  
  
"Aha!" The cypress tree lay a bit to the east. She was far away enough from the house that the bonfire would be mostly blocked from view. Unfortunately, the unusually bright night would make the smoke easier to see. "I should have put a sleeping charm on Ginny and the boys," mumbled Hermione, setting up her ritual. "Oh well."  
  
She also should have remembered to close the window. On the third story of the Weasley house, Ginny had awoken to the garbled noise of Hermione landing with a thump. "Hermione?" she called weakly. Sitting up, she realized her window was opened and her curtain was eerily blowing about like a ghost. Ginny rubbed her eyes and picked her head up off of her Potions textbook. She had been furiously scribbling her essay before she had fallen asleep.  
  
Rising to shut the window, she tripped over Hermione's cot. "Sorry," she whispered. She waited for a response. There was no noise. "Hermione?" she asked a little louder . She suddenly noticed how quite it was. There was no breathing except her own. "Hermione?" she called, not caring whom she woke. She glanced at the open window, fearing the worst.  
  
Throwing on a t-shirt, Ginny hopped onto the roof and surveyed the Weasley property, looking for Hermione. "Damn her," she cursed, lowering her self onto the icy rain gutter, preparing to slide down the side of the house. "I'm going to kill her once I save her," she remarked weakly, flying down the side of the house.  
  
"Here, deery deery deery," sang Hermione. She had lit a small bonfire and was waiting for the last part of her mission-the innocent. She sat in the clearing, clutching a small vial in her right hand. Her left hand was also clenched on an object. As Hermione sat looking for the deer, she realized that the sun would be rising soon.  
  
"I'd better start the spell," she thought. Pouring a mixture onto the ground, she traced it into a symbol and dropped a quartz stone onto the fire. The crystal glowed as the flames engulfed it.  
  
"The goddess does command me for thy majesty," she began chanting, gazing intently at the bush as a rustling sound was heard. "Come forward, blessed one," she urged. "Know your calling."  
  
A young fawn emerged out of the bush, slowly approaching Hermione. She smiled tenderly, marveling at the beauty of the young doe. The deer, captivated by the spell lowered its head submissively as Hermione gently stroked its head.  
  
"It'll all be over in a minute," Hermione reassured the deer, trying to convince both herself and the animal. "It's okay." She raised the knife in her left hand and prepared to strike.  
  
Ginny had been wandering about the property for fifteen minutes, growing increasingly more worried. As each moment passed by, she began to imagine Hermione's fate, growing progressively worse. Abducted by Death Eaters, kidnapped by Unspeakables, eaten by a hippogriff, captured by Lucius Malfoy to become Voldermort's love child to bare him an heir.Ginny shuddered.  
  
She walked a bit further, until she approached a clearing. A small fire burned in the center, under a cypress tree. "What the bloody hell." gasped Ginny. She watched as a small deer approached Hermione and she stroked the creature.  
  
If it hadn't been for the unnaturally brightness of Mars, Ginny never would have seen the silver glint of the knife reflect in the night. Her eyes widened in horror as she watched Hermione raise her hand, talking soothingly to the deer.  
  
"HERMIONE, DON'T!" screamed Ginny as Hermione lowered her arm.  
  
End notes: Greetings at the end of the chapter! I hope I don't get too many awful reviews about this chapter, and I'm sorry if you hated it. The rest of the story isn't all sacrificing and killing. Believe it or not, I actually got the inspiration for this fic from the Even Stevens movie. Anyway, the Mars' poem is from the movie Waiting for Guffman.  
SEPTEMBER NINETEENTH IS INTERNATIONAL TALK LIKE A PIRATE DAY. I know it sound stupid, but you have no idea how much fun it is to go around for an entire day talking like Jack Sparrow.saying things like "To the plank with ya!" and calling people scurvy curs. I encourage all of you to observe this fantastic holiday.  
  
For any Buffy fans out there, the line about the goddess commanding thy majesty is the beginning of Willow's chant in Bargaining Part One. 


	11. Sacrifices, Sacrifices and more sacrific...

Author's Note: Greetings once more. Not much to say, except a look of awe/wonder directed at Mina33. Not only has she managed to be my first review to the last.4 chapters, she knows Hermione's birthday. How do you know that? When do they mention that? Who am I to say.I'm basing this fic off of a line in the third book .  
  
"DON'T!" screamed Ginny as the knife flashed down. She watched in growing horror as Hermione's hands became coated in a dark liquid. "God, Hermione!" She turned to look at the girl. "What are you doing?"  
  
Hermione was horror-sticken. She looked down at the dead carcass on her lap, the blood on her hands. With increasing terror, she realized what had happened.  
  
She had just taken the life of an innocent creature.  
  
This is not what it was meant to be, she thought furiously. A present for Diana! Thanks for helping me rid the world of the scum that is Harry Potter! Biting back a scream, she answered Ginny's question weakly.  
  
"Having a barbeque?"  
  
Ginny regarded Hermione was fright. Her mouth dropped open as she watched Hermione wipe her knife with her trembling hands.  
  
"I don't suppose you like venison?" she questioned, grabbing her vial. She calmly slit an artery of the animal and began collecting blood in the container.  
  
Ginny shook her head feebly. "Never tried it." She approached the fire cautiously, as Hermione calmly sealed her vial. "'Mione, what are you doing?"  
  
Hermione's mind raced. Clearly, this was not the proper time to bring up vengeance and souls. She once more wiped her knife and struggled to think of a plausible excuse.  
  
"You know I'm taking advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts?" she began. Ginny nodded. "Well, I found an ancient protection spell that requires the blood of a newborn fawn.taken during the night of the moonless sky."  
  
Ginny shook her head in disbelief as she both took in Hermione's story and regarded the dead body of the deer. "Hermione, I've heard of extra credit, but when you've taken to slaying woodlawn creatures." She shook her head. "That's when you've gone too far."  
  
Hermione gave her a big smile. "I knew you'd understand, Gin." She reached over and patted her friend on the hand. "Now I'm sorry to do this, but the spell has to be completed in solitude."  
  
"Oh," said Ginny knowingly.  
  
They sat in silence for a few moments. "That means I have to be alone," expanded Hermione.  
  
"I get it," huffed Ginny. "I know when I'm not wanted." Her eyes filled with tears. "Harry doesn't want me," she wept.  
  
"No, he doesn't," said Hermione, growing irritated. "Go back to your room and mope in solitude so I can still view you with respect in the morning."  
  
Wiping her eyes, Ginny retreated back into the woods. Lurking behind a tree, she watched her friend sprinkle sand on the fire and pour a droplet of blood out.  
  
"Ginny, I know you're still there," she called. "If the spell is done incorrectly, it makes all your hair fall out. Everyone within.two hundred feet."  
  
Fearing for her crimson locks, Ginny raced back to her home and shimmied up the gutter. Standing on the roof, she regarded the growing bonfire. "Something's going on with Hermione." Her eyes narrowed. "And I'm going to find out what."  
  
"So we are alone at last," said Diana, as her face appeared in the flames. She peered at the body of the fawn. "You did well, little one."  
  
"Thank you," said Hermione, pleased to be praised by her goddess.  
  
"Not you. The deer," snapped Diana. "Imagine, sacrificing it's life for the goddess that it serves." She turned to Hermione. "Do you know of a better way to die?"  
  
Hermione gulped. "No, Goddess. I do not."  
  
Diana examined Hermione closely. "There is none." Without blinking, she began to speak in a cold, emotionless voice. "Think of all I have given you, Hermione. Powers beyond your wildest dreams! The raven-haired girl whom you have named Dementia! Blessed you with tonight's opportunites." she shook her head. "And you repay me with a deer."  
  
Hermione was confused. "I thought you liked it," she said uncertainly.  
  
Diana laughed. "Liked it? My dear girl, I like how you so ruthlessly kill for your lady. I like your vigor, your sense of honor.but the deer?" She stepped from the flame, shaking out her. She shook her head and withdrew an arrow from the sheath on her back.  
  
With lightening fast speed, she aimed her weapon at Hermione. "Do you think I wouldn't fire this at you?" she asked the frightened girl.  
  
"Well, I." began Hermione hesitantly.  
  
"NO!" thundered the Goddess. She brought the bow closer to Hermione. "Remember this, child. You mean nothing to me." Hermione gulped. "I am the Huntsman-In-Chief to the entire world." She lowered her voice and paused for dramatic flair. "Why is the life of one fifteen-year- old worth preserving?"  
  
As suddenly as she had raised it, Diana lowered the bow. "You live as long as I have a reason to continue your life," she stated. "Atropos carries those abhorred sheared, and can cut your thread of life in a split second."  
  
Hermione waved her hand at the agitated goddess. "I know, I know! I saw Hercules!"  
  
Diana scowled at her. "Youth, I'm being serious."  
  
Hermione nodded mockingly. "So am I." She shook her head wisely. "That Hercules! We should call him HUNKULES!" she mimicked.  
  
"I'll tell him you said that," commented Diana dryly.  
  
"No! Um, I'm just kidding," protested Hermione.  
  
"Or you could tell him yourself if I just dispose of you right now!" thundered Diana. She took one last look at the deer corpse. "True, your sacrifice was honorable. But I wonder what you would do if I asked you for something greater." She took a step closer to Hermione. Staring hard at her, she broke into a smile. "Dear, I don't want to fight with you. After all, we are going to be spending eternity together." She paused and laughed mirthlessly. "Just be prepared for my next visit, child."  
  
She stepped into the fire and disappeared.  
  
"Crap," swore Hermione. She looked at the carcass of the fawn and frowned. "Well, this sucks." Pouting softly to herself, she buried the animal and blessed it's soul. Gathering her materials, she walked back to the house.  
  
"Why am I walking?" she asked suddenly. "I can just apparate!" With a POOF, she apparated and reappreaed in Ginny's room.  
  
"She's right about the eternity thing," thought Hermione as she got into her bed. "I gave her my soul for her to with as she will.if something were to happen to me.I'm in her hands."  
  
But the one question on her mind as she sank into fitful slumber was this: What does she mean, something greater?  
  
Despite her late night excursion, Hermione woke early on Sunday. She glanced at Ginny's bedside clock and realized Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wouldn't even be home for another hour. Ginny moaned in her sleep and picked her head off of her potions textbook. Sighing, she looked up at Hermione. "21 hours until the potions essay is due!"  
  
Hermione smiled pityingly at the redhead. She patted Ginny on the head and tying her dressing gown tightly around her, she walked down to the kitchen to make herself some breakfast.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Hermione was sitting at the table, nursing a cup of tea and a piece of toast. She stared into the Weasley family clock and gazed on it's members.  
  
Mrs. Weasley: Traveling  
  
Mr. Weasley: Traveling: Hermione recalled they were taking a train before apparating, as Mrs. Weasley was afraid to apparate over long distances.  
  
Bill: Work  
  
Charlie: Sleeping  
  
Percy: Work  
  
Fred: Sleeping  
  
George: Sleeping  
  
Ron: Sleeping  
  
Ginny: Sleeping  
  
Harry: Sleeping  
  
An entire minute passed before Hermione recognized the significance of the last member. Her jaw dropped. "They think he's a member of their FAMILY now?" she exclaimed, her jaw dropping open. "And Ginny's in love with him? Is that even LEGAL?"  
  
"Hermione, what are you yelling about?" asked a very tired voice. Hermione looked up and saw Harry absently rubbing his eyes.  
  
Caught off-guard, Hermione stammered. "Oh.you know. School.life.war..communism," she rattled off.  
  
Not fully awake, Harry merely nodded. He gestured towards the rising sun. "What are you doing up so early?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Fitful slumber."  
  
Harry nodded. "Tell me about it."  
  
"Okay." said Hermione. "I was pondering what we really owe our loved ones and those who love us," she said suddenly.  
  
Herm, a voice in her head asked her.why are you asking him this? This is the kid that you HATE with the fire of a thousand suns! I know, she defended herself, but maybe I can use his response to blackmail him later.  
  
Harry looked taken aback. He fished for the kettle and put on some water for his own cup of tea. "Well," he said slowly. "What do you mean?"  
  
Hermione struggled to explain herself. "Do we owe them our happiness? Do we owe them our lives? What are we required to give those who love us?"  
  
Harry sat down at the table and stared hard at the clock that now bore his name. "Happiness," he said slowly. "All those who love us want is for us to be happy," he realized. "And that makes them happy.when we're upset, we make them upset!" He smiled brilliantly at Hermione. "That was clever of you. I finally understand."  
  
Hermione was bewildered. She was expecting some line about Gryffindor loyalty and defending them with the last drop of blood in your veins. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" she asked finally.  
  
"Sirius," he said clearly. He nodded. "You're telling me that I owe all of my friends, the Weasleys, Dumbledore my happiness.and you're right!" He gave her an awkward hug. "Thank you."  
  
"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione weakly. In her effort to spill, she had unknowingly comforted the boy and taken away his pain. "Where are you going?"  
  
"I have to go tell Ron I'm not grieving anymore!" he shouted back. He thundered up the stairs, very energetic. "FRED! GEORGE! RON! GINNY!" he bellowed. "I'M NOT PINING ANYMORE!"  
  
"How bloody brilliant," Hermione heard Ron moan. "Now go back to sleep."  
  
Harry left Hermione gazing desolately into her cup. "What have I done?" she asked herself in horror as she watched Harry wake up the household joyesouly.  
  
She shrugged. "Oh well. I'll hate him again by breakfast," she thought, hoping that it'd be true.  
  
Author's note: I just finished writing this as Hurricane Isabel is pounding against my window. It's rather windy outside! Anyway, this chapter did NOT go the way I wanted it to. I had written an interesting scene with Ron and a jock strap.but I'll just have to post that in a later chapter.  
  
And Mina.sorry about not including Hermione's birthday, but it's still only September 1st in the fic. Hermione's birthday will come later.I've got it all planned out.  
  
And now a quote: (On the subject of Thanksgiving)  
  
Buffy: Okay, so maybe it's a sham. But it's a sham with yams! It's a yam- sham! 


	12. In Which Hermione is clever and coniving

(Author's Note: No one's reading this! That's fun. Now I have all these fun plot twists I get to use so I won't be reported to fanficton.net! Here's a hint.Molly Weasley/Dumbledore...it's going to be fun.)  
  
For one who complained so much about other people's food, Fred Weasley sure made a mean batch of pancakes. Of course, there wasn't much actual cooking involved-He found a charm in Witch Weekly that made the pancakes for him. Anyhow, they certainly tasted good.  
  
Harry could not stop beaming. "I'm happy, I'm happy, I'm happy!" he was singing cheerfully as he munched his pancakes. He smiled brilliantly at Ron. "I'm not going to kill myself anymore!"  
  
Hermione cursed. "Oh well," she shrugged as she cut up another pancake. She glanced at her watch. "Ron, shouldn't your parents be getting home like.now?"  
  
"I hope so," said George. "There's no way the house is going to stay this clean for another hour."  
  
"True," agreed Fred as he spilled some more batter on the floor. "Luckily, you don't even need them.you already went to Diagon Alley and bought all your school stuff."  
  
"We don't have school," pointed out George.  
  
"No, we already graduated," agreed Fred.  
  
"We are intellectually superior." George nodded to his twin.  
  
"Alright, there are so many things wrong with that conversation I barely know where to begin," quipped Ginny as she sipped some of her tea. "A, you did not graduate. You left school. And b.aren't you the people that believed Lavender Brown when she told you Posh Spice was her aunt?"  
  
That shut them up, noted Hermione.  
  
"Oh well.we all know who's excited to go back to school," smiled Harry.  
  
Why won't he stop smiling, thought Hermione. I just want to punch those pearly whites out of his mouth. "Who?"  
  
"You! You've got all those advanced classes.you're the only prefect in Gryffindor this year.isn't that super?" he chirped.  
  
Ron scowled as he remembered that he was no longer a prefect after a mix up about "sharing" Parvati Patil's answers on a Potions exam.  
  
"Not entirely," said Hermione. She shuddered. "The prefects have different quarters this year and I'm terrified as to whom I am rooming with."  
  
Ron reached for some orange juice. "You'll probably be with Hannah Abbot."  
  
Hermione lowered her head, casting her eyes so she could watch Harry's reaction to her next words. "True, but I wanted to be in the regular quarters. I was hoping I could room with Dementia."  
  
Harry actually spat out a bit of his juice. "Dementia is going to Hogwarts?" he gasped.  
  
"I thought she mentioned that to you."  
  
"She probably did.I wasn't listening very hard."  
  
"We noticed," smoothed Ginny.  
  
"Is she going to be in our year?" he inquired excitedly, no doubt planning on making her his new Charms partner.  
  
Hermione shrugged. "She was home schooled. She's going to be in some of our classes, but not all of them."  
  
Hermione had thought this through, thoroughly. Dumbledore would see through Dementia in a moment. Fully installing her as a student would involve too much work and too many chances for mistakes. Better to have her suddenly appear and disappear.  
  
"Hello!" called a voice from the living room.  
  
"Shit," cursed Ron. "Mum and Dad!" He and his brothers began urgently straightening up the kitchen as Ginny leaned back and ate another pancake.  
  
"I'm not getting up," she informed them. "You cook it, you clean it."  
  
"My dears!" exclaimed Molly Weasley as she entered. "Ginny.darling, have you grown? Fred, George.. why are you cleaning? What did you do to my house?" She pointed a finger at them threateningly before turning to her youngest son. "Ron, you look pale. Have you been eating your vegetables? Harry dear." She surveyed his smiling face critically. "You're looking better" She reached Hermione. "Hermione! You look.different." She glanced over the lightened completion and the darkened, straightened hair. "I suppose Bulgaria agreed with you? Now out of my kitchen!"  
  
"Morning," greeted Mr. Weasley.  
  
The Weasley children and their guests quickly exited the kitchen. "I've got to go finish my homework," said Ron gloomily. "Harry, help me?"  
  
"Hermione.. help me with my homework?" begged Ginny.  
  
Agreeing, Hermione followed Ginny upstairs. Instead of digging out a roll of parchment, Ginny sat on her bed and burst into tears.  
  
"There there." comforted Hermione, very confused. ".Don't cry?"  
  
Ginny wept harder and grabbed a handkerchief that Hermione offered. "I don't know why it affects me so much," she wept. "I know that he's not my boyfriend and never will be but.oh!"  
  
"Who?"  
  
Ginny gave her a bleary eyed stare. "Who do you think? Harry!"  
A wave of annoyance washed through Hermione as she pictured his irritatingly cheerful face. "Oh. Right."  
  
Wiping her eyes, she quietly muffled her sobs. "You must think I'm insane."  
  
Hermione considered the predicament that Ginny was in, not unlike how she was several months ago. "Well.I don't think you're insane. But I don't think you've both feet on the ground either," she said honestly.  
  
Ginny wept harder. "Stupid moronic girl from Israel..!"  
  
Hermione nodded. Watching the sobbing girl, she thought about her own problem. The whole deal with Diana the night before had scared her. Killing an animal had been rough, but what had the goddess meant by something more? Why do all these mythological people speak in riddles?  
  
"You have a lot of problems," she sympathized. She patted Ginny's hand. "Is there anyway I could solve some?"  
  
Ginny wept harder then ever. "Even if you did, I'd just go out and find new ones. My life is just like that."  
  
"You're right," agreed Hermione. "Captured by Voldemort at age 11.I think you went with Neville to a ball sometime.you have unrequited love.Your life is fairly tragic."  
  
"Tell me about it!"  
  
"No offense, but let's compare it with someone's. Say, mine," said Hermione to the sobbing girl. "In every single year, I have been knocked unconscious at some point. First year-while looking for the Sorcerer's stone.second year I was petrified for an entire month. In third year, I was knocked out by a bunch of dementors. Fourth year I was abducted by merpeople and put in the bottom of the lake while people were sending me hate mail full of poisonous pus. Fifth year I got put in a coma when I dogged a killing curse." She thought about her past summer. "And then consider the fact that your brother has unrequited love for me and I don't even speak the same language as Viktor." She continued. "Then consider that I'm a muggle born and face daily taunts at school from the Slytherins. Plus I'm constantly worried that my parents are going to be attacked by the Death Eaters."  
  
Ginny sighed and wiped tears from her eyes. "You're right," she nodded. "You're life is pretty shitty."  
  
"And I didn't even mention the part about selling my soul to wreck unholy havoc on my opposers," commented Hermione.  
  
"Have I mention your odd sense of humor?" quipped Ginny, wiping some more tears from her eyes.  
  
"Oh, quit sniveling," scolded Hermione. "If you stop crying, I'll do your History of Magic homework."  
  
"I love you," said Ginny passionately to Hermione.  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Sorry Gin, I'm not ready to take our friendship to that level.  
  
Ginny laughed. "Seriously.if anything happens to you, I'm going to throw myself off a cliff."  
  
"I thought we just discussed how I'm always being attacked."  
  
"Well, if anyone does manage to off you," she said comfortingly.  
  
Hermione opened up textbook and listened to Ginny's pensive ramblings.  
  
"Why are our lives like this? Hermione, we're both smart, attractive young women."  
  
"I'm even hot," interrupted Hermione. She laughed at the surprised expression on her friend's face.  
  
Ginny grinned sheepishly. "Thanks Hermione." She thought for a moment. "I'm going to try to be more like you," she decided. "Whatever you did to snap yourself out of self-pity and whatever.I'm going to do that too."  
  
"That's wonderful," said Hermione. Almost sincerely too.  
  
Helping people is never more rewarding than when it's in your own self- interest, she pondered.  
  
(Author's Note: My friend just asked me if I had the cootie shot.not since second grade.no.) 


	13. Morning After

When Hermione's alarm clock began ringing the next morning, she  
instantly picked it up and hurled it across the room. Now, from  
cartoons we all realize this doesn't work. It just makes the alarm  
clock ring shriller and louder and louder and louder until Hermione  
finally realized she must get up.  
  
She groaned out loud, recalling her dream. Less of a dream and more of  
a visitation, she corrected herself. Warnings from Diana that she had  
better get her act together or the grouchy goddess would get it  
together for her.  
  
"Get up, Ginny," said Hermione, shaking the sleeping redhead. "The  
train leaves in an hour."  
  
"Mghwhgh," moaned Ginny. Hermione sighed.  
  
"Oh well," she shrugged. "I tried." She took a cursory shower and dressed in her robes, proudly pinning her Prefect badge onto her robe.  
  
Glancing at the mirror, she recognized that Virginia Weasley was still sleeping. Hopping up on the mattress, Hermione began bouncing up and down.  
  
"AH!" screamed Ginny. "WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"  
  
"Getting you up," answered Hermione cheerfully, doing a bit of a flip.  
  
"I'm up, I'm up." answered Ginny, rubbing her eyes. "Now go away."  
  
Happy to oblige, Hermione hopped downstairs to the kitchen to find a  
tired looking Harry and Ron sitting at the kitchen table, holding  
steaming mugs of tea.  
  
Harry wished her a half-hearted good morning while Ron gaped at  
her like a fish. "For Merlin's sake, say something," snapped  
Molly as she slammed a plate of eggs on the table. Clearly, she  
was not a morning person either.  
  
"Err.you look nice this morning."  
  
Fred snorted.  
  
"Why are you here?" asked Hermione. "You don't have to go to Hogwarts.  
Remember the whole thing were you left school?"  
  
George sent her a pitying look. "And we thought you knew so much," he said wistfully. "We're going to try to buy out Zonko's. And if that fails well."  
  
"I don't want to know," Hermione covered her ears and took a piece of toast from Mrs. Weasley.  
  
"Let's just say.if he doesn't comply.there's going to be a scandal."  
Fred grinned at Harry.  
  
"A scandal of a SEXUAL nature," persisted George.  
  
"You're very proud of this, aren't you?" asked Hermione, losing interest.  
  
"They're going to take a picture of him in bed with a prostitute," interjected Harry. "They told us last night."  
  
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. He'd probably distribute the pictures as Christmas newsletters with a cigar." Hermione plopped down in a chair.  
  
Ginny began walking feebly down the stairs. "Good morning, GINNY!"  
exclaimed Hermione.  
  
"Don't talk so loud," moaned Ginny. She squinted at the light. "This is too bright.its too early.vacation was too short."  
  
"Just think," said Hermione dreamily. "This time tomorrow we'll be getting ready for our first class.tomorrow night we could be doing homework."  
  
"You're sick Hermione, you really are." Harry gave her the once-over  
and took a swing of his orange juice. "Excited about school.what's  
wrong with you?"  
  
Hermione opened her mouth, about to make a remark about selling her  
soul when Ginny interrupted her. "Don't bother to ask. She'll just  
make some twisted remark about selling her soul in exchange for  
unlimited power."  
  
Fred laughed. "A sense of humor.somewhat."  
  
Opening her eyes a bit, Ginny turned to her brother. "Did you two do your Defense Against the Dark Arts homework yet?"  
  
"Finished it last night," beamed Ron. "We were up so late.it took  
forever."  
  
Ginny wrinkled her nose. "You guys are disgusting. I hope I don't have that assignment next year."  
  
Ron and Harry exchanged looks. It was only an essay.  
  
"Hurry up!" hollered Mrs. Weasley. "We're leaving in fifteen minutes."  
  
"I haven't even packed yet," whispered Harry to Ron. Ron nodded.  
  
"Likewise." The two got up and tramped upstairs, leaving Hermione and  
Ginny with the twins, as Mrs. Weasley went to go hunt her car keys  
  
The time passed quickly as Hermione ate some waffles and sipped her  
own tea. Fifteen minutes later, a somewhat disheveled Potter and Ron  
descended the stairs.  
  
"Ready to leave?" asked Mrs. Weasley as she found her keys. She  
ushered her children and guests into the Ministry car and proceeded to  
drive to the station.  
  
The journey to platform 9 and three quarters was uneventful, except  
for when the approached the barrier.  
  
"Hello, mistress," proclaimed Dementia, leaning on the barrier. "I  
have been waiting for you."  
  
Mrs. Weasley shot Hermione a puzzled look. "Do I know you?" she  
inquired.  
  
Hermione gave a nervous laugh. "She means me. Dementia's foreign.she  
often says thing she doesn't mean, right?" She patted her creature on  
the shoulder.  
  
"I'm terribly sorry," apologized Dementia. She turned to Hermione.  
"Have I said something I oughtn't?" she whispered loudly.  
  
"No, nothing," sighed Hermione, She glanced at the clock. "Why don't  
you guys get a spot on the train and Dementia and I will join you in a  
moment?"  
  
"Sure," said Ron. He elbowed Harry, who was openly gaping at the  
"Israeli" girl. Ron led him away. "Ginny? Coming?"  
  
Ginny shot Dementia a last look of disgust as her brother led her  
away.  
  
Mrs. Weasley shrugged. "Well then, have a good year darlings. See you  
at Christmas!" She turned and left without another word to Hermione  
and her friend.  
  
"I'm going to go through the barrier now." Hermione pointed to it. "I  
don't think you can pass through without getting in trouble. There'  
some magical protection charm on it to prevent outsiders from  
entering.I'll summon you soon. Meet me in the compartment in fifteen  
minutes?"  
  
Dementia nodded. "I will be there." Hermione smiled and passed through  
the barrier.  
  
Lugging her trunk, she entered the train with her other classmates and  
sought the two other members of her trio. Hermione sunk down in the  
plush seats and reached for her book.  
  
"Hermione, could you check this?" asked Ron suddenly, pulling a piece  
of parchment out of his trunk.  
  
"Yeah, mine too?" asked Harry, doing the same as he began to eye  
Lavender Brown critically. She shot him a flirtatious smile and  
beckoned to him.  
  
"I'd better go with him," said Ron urgently. "You know.in case she  
pressures him into engaging in risky behaviors.or something."  
  
Left alone, Hermione shrugged. Left alone with the homework papers.  
Alone in the corner while the Boy Who Lived flirted with the Slut That  
Shouldn't. Hermione furrowed her brow furiously.  
  
She began to realize it wasn't fair. Here she was, gifted with  
ultimate power. The strongest witch in Britain, sitting alone in a  
train compartment with nothing but grammatically incorrect  
Transfiguration essays.  
  
Hermione suddenly found herself in the same predicament as any mass  
murderer has been in-yes, she had ultimate power. Yes, she could do  
whatever she wanted. But no one liked her more for it. Power wasn't  
helping her get her way.  
  
"Or maybe it will," she thought mischievously. Closing her eyes  
briefly, she imagined Dementia. Whispering a quiet Greek chant, she  
opened her eyes and saw the door to her compartment swing open.  
  
"Mistress!" cried Dementia, elated to see Hermione. Apparently, she did not recall that she had seen the girl only a few minutes ago.  
  
It's wonderful to have something that lives just to please you, thought Hermione. "Dementia, you shouldn't call me that in public," she said kindly after a moment.  
  
"What will Mistress have me call her?" asked Dementia.  
  
"Whatever you want. But no titles-no Great Mistress.nothing like  
that."  
  
Dementia shook her head. "You are not Great Mistress. She would not  
like that. You are a holy lady." She smiled adoringly. "You are the  
saint of my kind."  
  
"Lovely," said Hermione, imagining an army of Dementias worshiping a Hermione icon.  
  
"I shall call you that," declared Dementia. She smiled. "If I am to be a Hebrew girl, I shall give you Hebrew name. Hedsa. It's meaning is Voice of God."  
  
She gazed upon Hermione intently. "That is what you are to me. Hedsa.  
Through you, I hear my Goddess speak."  
  
"Then I want you to do something for me," whispered Hermione. She  
pointed to Harry, who was shamelessly flirting with Lavender. "Ignore  
him. Embarrass him in front of his friends. Make him feel inferior."  
  
"I will," said Dementia. Getting up, she walked up towards Harry.  
  
"Dementia?" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Dementia appeared confused. "Do I know you?"  
  
Lavender's mouth dropped open. Even Ron gaped at Dementia. Everyone  
knew Harry Potter-and when they met him, they never forgot him.  
  
Harry laughed nervously. This hadn't happened in many years. "Harry  
Potter? Remember? We met when we were eating ice cream that time in  
Diagon Alley? I complimented your name?" He got no reaction. "You ARE  
Hermione's friend, correct?"  
"Hedsa?" called Dementia. "Who is this boy?"  
  
"Which one?" called back Hermione, giggling inside. Oh, this was fun.  
  
"He has dark hair, glasses and some kind of scar."  
  
"Oh, that's Harry," said Hermione, appearing next to Dementia. "Don't you remember him?"  
  
"No, I'm afraid I do not."  
  
You must go now, whispered Hermione to her. "I must go now," declared Dementia. She turned to Hermione and bowed her head. "Yours, Hedsa."  
  
For the love of Diana, don't apparate out of here, begged Hermione  
wordlessly. Dementia heeded this unspoken plea and walked out the  
door.  
  
"Interesting girl," commented Lavender. "Is she foreign?"  
  
"Yes, she's from Israel."  
  
"How could you not remind her of me?" said Harry, clearly distraught.  
"Why didn't you mention me to her?"  
  
Hermione looked from him to Ron, who was also staring at her angrily.  
  
"Hermione, you knew he liked her," he declared. "How could you do  
this?"  
  
"How could I do this?" asked Hermione, her voice deathly low. "Do what, exactly?" she hissed. "I have better things to discuss than Harry Potter's infatuation with her. Despite what you think, I do have a life outside of school. And even if I had purposely not mentioned you, I have every reason to." Hermione's voice was rising and she fought to keep it from going shrill. "Look back to my chair, Ron. What do you see?"  
  
"Our homework."  
  
"Exactly. Do you see my advanced Arithmancy homework? Do you see my  
Ancient Runes report? How about university Transfiguration? No! I gave  
up my own time to help you. And I shouldn't. I shouldn't do these  
things for you but I do!" Her voice began to shriek. I can't stop now,  
she told herself.  
  
"You guys treat me...like a bastard at a family reunion. Like a stray dog that you occasionally throw a bone to. And do I deserve this?" Hermione's eyes blazed as she once more saw the essays on her chair. "No. I do not."  
  
She would have kept going except her chair suddenly caught fire. Shocked, she took a gasp. Her classmates gaped at her as she stared at the flaming chair. I just looked there, she protested to herself. I just destroyed it.without even meaning to. Shaking her head, she stormed out of the compartment.  
  
She took care not to slam the door. 


	14. A Chance Encounter

From the way her day was going, Hermione already knew who was going to be in her compartment. It was too perfect-none other than her official nemesis was waiting for her, draped over a chair like a frog waiting for a fly.  
  
"Hello, Draco," greeted Hermione dryly, not bothering to look at him. "I'm going to make this quick and easy." She ignored his obvious anger by this aggressive tone and continued, "Yes, you think I'm a mudblood. You've been telling me for the past five years and now, as we enter our sixth year were we will both be Elite Prefects, let's just cut that formality."  
  
"Formality?" interjected an outraged Draco. "Listen, mudblood-"  
  
"Malfoy, it's getting to be cute," she said playfully. "It's like your little nickname for me. 'Hello, mudblood,'" she mocked. Hermione laughed. "'Move it, mudblood.' It no longer affects me. In fact, it's like an immunity." She turned towards him. "It's like the chicken pox. Hurts like a bitch the first time, the second time you're rather immune. Your blood develops." Her last insult hit him like a slap in the face.  
  
"Well, that's what it's all about, isn't it?" he snapped back. "Blood. And it doesn't matter whether I call you Mudblood or Muggle-born." He smiled denigrating at her. "You're inferior. You became a witch, gifted with the greatest gift a Muggle could hope of receiving-by sheer luck," Draco spat. "Maybe it's a freak mutation of your DNA, or maybe your mother slept around with a wizard-"  
  
"Don't talk about my mum!" shouted Hermione. "At least she's an educated woman and not some stay-at home kiss ass like yours."  
  
Draco's eyes glittered and narrowed. "Leave my mother out of this, filth. As I was saying, all of us-Yes, even Potter. Even that disgusting disgrace to the Wizarding name, Weasley-they are the product of millenniums of war, chaos and fighting. They worked to get here, through their ancestors."  
  
Hermione snarled, "I'm more powerful than any other witch in our school. You've seen the spells I perform. Watch me duel a wizard three times my age and tell my I'm incompetent."  
  
Draco ignored her statement. "You have no right to be here. End of discussion," he closed, leaving Hermione alone with her suppressed insults and arguments.  
  
After several moments of silence, she could not take it anymore. "What of Goyle and Crabb?" she attacked. "Had they no right to be here either?"  
  
Draco looked over his homework and kept his voice expressionless. "Their loyalties lie elsewhere now. Not that it's any of your business, Filth."  
  
Hermione sighed. "Filth. Well, it's a start. How do you like Chaste? As a nickname? Malfoy's getting to predictable." Draco made a noise that sounded like a mix between a snort and a cough. She smiled fiendishly. "Chaste is a synonym for pure, didn't you know? As is the word 'Virgin.' One who is pure, you know."  
  
"And what of you," shot back Draco. "You're not followed by your usual lap dogs. What of Pothead and Weasel?"  
  
"Do their loyalties lie elsewhere, you mean?" questioned Hermione, a smile playing on her face. She shook her head. "It is more of the question of where my loyalties lie."  
  
Surprisingly, Draco abandoned his books and focused his attention on her. "Well, that's a surprise," he mused. "Never thought I'd see the day where Miss Know-It All abandoned the biggest supporters of her idol."  
  
"It has nothing to do with Dumbledore," she snapped. "He's a great wizard, if unethical, but it's Harry and Ron who's ethics I don't agree with."  
  
"So, slime," said Draco brightly. "What are you going to do now? Abandoned by the Gryffindors, alone and friendless.however will you deal with pressure of sharing a common room and dorm with them?"  
  
"I don't have that problem to deal with this year, Virgin," snapped Hermione, loving the wince on his face. "I'm an Elite this year-I share a dorm with another Elite and share a common room with two. So I only have to deal with you, Ernie and I think Padma."  
  
"Ugh," groaned Draco. "I forgot about that. I'll have to share a common room with a mudblood.err, piece of Muggle refuse like you."  
  
"You're too kind," said Hermione dryly. "Not only are you sharing this compartment with me today, but you may share a bathroom with me the whole year." She smiled belligerently at the Slytherin. "Aren't you having a swell day?"  
  
"My father should have killed you when he had the chance," snapped Draco.  
  
"Well now he's in an asylum where psychos like him belong!" attacked Hermione.  
  
"You don't talk about my parents," said Draco softly, gripping his wand. "Let one bad word about my father pass your lips and I'll rip out your tongue."  
  
"Your father has stupid hair," she whispered back. "Ah ha ha!" she reprimanded as he shot a charm at her. "Dissidiumina!" A pink force field wove itself around her. "Duck, you foolish boy."  
  
Awestruck, Draco complied and Hermione sent the spell back over his head. "Don't get me mad this year," she warned. "You see what I just did? I wasn't even angry then."  
  
As the train unloaded, Draco mused over his encounter with the girl. While he analyzed ever queer thing she said, one thing slipped his mind. That last spell?  
  
She hadn't even been holding a wand.  
  
A/N: Here we are, the beginning of the school year. Let me explain the Elite Prefect thing I created. From what I gather, students are prefects for two years and become Prefects. It didn't make sense to me that 6th year prefects have the same priviledges as 5th years. So I shook things up-Elite Prefects are like inferior Head students. It is one student per house, instead of two. For instance, Hermione is a prefect, Ron is now not. Elitists have two separate dorms and one common room for all 4 of them. It is essential to the plot that Hermione have more freedom than the common student. And by the way, this fic is NOT going to be Hermione/Draco. I could never do that, I respect the characters too much.) 


	15. Back To School

After the train had halted, Hermione sauntered out of her compartment and ignored the jibes and whispered comments about what had just transpired between her and Draco. Laughing silently, she realized that by the time the banquet concluded how outrageous the speculations would be. Assured in her knowledge that Ginny would inform her of the rumors tomorrow at breakfast, Hermione entered the Great Hall and seated herself at the Gryffindor table.  
  
Professor McGonagall greeted Hermione with a curt smile and approving glance, as contradicting as the two seemed. Grateful for a bit of companionship, Hermione responded with a warm smile.  
  
She had opened her mouth to inquire about her teacher's summer when Ron's voice interrupted her. "'Oy, Hermione," he said jauntily. "Can you believe how many first years there are?" He groaned. "We'll never get to eat."  
  
"There's no more than any other year," commented Ginny. "There just appear to be more cause you're hungry."  
  
"Have you two gone mad?" asked Hermione, utterly confused. "Not an hour ago, we had a shouting match, resulting in my igniting a chair."  
  
"Yes, that was a neat trick," said Harry brightly, plopping down next to her. "Do show me how to do that. I can only inflate things or make them explode."  
  
"You're missing my point. We just had a huge row and now we're all best friends?"  
  
"Herm, herm, herm," sighed Ron. "We're buddies! We're a trio!" He gave her a friendly smile. "Where would Harry and I be without you?"  
  
"Probably still in first year Potions, that's for sure," Hermione snapped.  
  
"And you'd still be trapped in a bathroom, pursued by a troll!" responded Harry flippantly. "See, we all need each other. We're all.co-dependent."  
  
"Wow, Harry. Big word," said Hermione dryly.  
  
"Aw, come on," urged Ron. "It was just a quarrel. If it means that much, Harry and I will stop asking you for homework help."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I don't mind helping you, I just have a problem with you asking me to do the homework while you gossip about how Finland's Quidditch match against Venezuela resulted."  
  
"How did that end?" asked Harry to Ron.  
  
"Venezuela won, 360 to 110. Caught the snitch in twenty minutes flat," reported Ron.  
  
"Great, now I owe Bill twenty Knuts," sighed Harry.  
  
Suddenly, Hermione realized the Great Hall was quiet. "The Sorting will begin now!" announced Professor McGonagall, regarding the Gryffindor table suspiciously. "Alfreda, Lorenzo!"  
  
Hermione resigned herself to slumping in her chair, not making eye contact with either boy on her sides.  
  
The Gryffindor table was far from silent, yet it lacked it's usual friendly bickering from the Golden Three. Hermione was cordial enough, yet cold and indifferent to their questions.  
  
Ginny was no source of comfort to her either-still hurt by Harry's preference to Dementia, she had resolved to chatting up as many eligible Gryffindor men as possible. Harry didn't notice.  
  
Hermione spent the feast speaking amicably to Nearly Headless Nick about French history and why they had never won a war.  
  
"You forget the Hundred Years' War," called Sir Nick triumphantly.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "The French had to result to divine intervention to even get a chance and they still lost."  
  
"The English left their soil, no?"  
  
As Hermione opened her mouth to point out his errors in military strategy, Professor Snape approached.  
  
"As fascinating as this conversation may be," he drawled in his usual monotonous way, "Miss Granger is needed in the Conference Room. Something about living arrangements."  
  
He turned his back, leaving Hermione with nothing to call out. "I don't know where the Conference Room is," she sighed miserably.  
  
"I'll take you," declared Sir Nicholas, floating upwards. Hermione made her excuses to the table (who explicitly ignored her) and followed the ghost to the room.  
  
Once situated in the conference room, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall greeted her pleasantly. Draco Malfoy, Ernie and Padma stood at attention, looking anxious.  
  
"Did I miss something?" asked Hermione in confusion.  
  
"Only that Miss.Padma here is dismissed from her position." Professor McGonagall offered Padma no sympathy as the poor girl dissolved into a flood of tears. "The circumstances are none of your concern, but we are in an interesting predicament," she continued. "Padma will be replaced by Damien McGinty, who is as you can imagine, male."  
  
"So it would appear that we have two dormitories, four bedrooms, one common room, two bathrooms, three young men and one young woman," commented Dumbledore.  
  
"You just said there are four bedrooms. How is this a problem?" inquired Hermione, fearing his answer."  
  
"Each pair of rooms is connected to an adjoining bath and study area," explained Prof. McGonagall.  
  
"The bath and study area aren't adjoining," explained Dumbledore. "It's the bedrooms that adjoin." He laughed at his own strange joke- like.thing.  
  
"Originally, you and Padma would share a dormitory. A moment ago, we drew names out of a hat to chose the living assignments."  
  
"And the results were?" questioned Hermione, again fearing the response.  
  
"Damien and I are together," said Ernie in a small voice.  
  
"And I am with.."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," answered Dumbledore. "So we want to make sure you two play nice this year, set a good example for the children, promote intra- school unity and the like."  
  
"I'm sure we will have no problems," lied Hermione, mentally swearing. How could she continue her midnight ramblings and meetings with Draco in the adjoining room? Padma she could easily elude-Padma was a fool. But Draco Malfoy was anything but a fool and could easily have her sentenced to Azkaban for eternity.  
  
"We spent forty-five minutes in a train compartment together, Mal- excuse me, Draco," said Hermione pleasantly. "I'm sure we can last a year."  
  
Draco said nothing loud enough to be deciphered, although Hermione though she caught the words "filthy slime bucket worm." Dumbledore looked sharply at the boy, who smiled charmingly. "I look forward to working with all of you, no matter what Wizarding heritage you come from," he commented impassively.  
  
Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "Splendid. Now scurry on to your rooms and get a good night's sleep." He turned to exit. "Goodnight, Minerva."  
  
"Evening, Headmaster," she said abruptly. "You are dismissed. Hermione-" she beckoned as the four students exited.  
  
"Yes?" asked Hermione soullessly (pardon the irony).  
  
"Tomorrow at 9:30 begins Advanced Transfiguration. Please tell those in your tower that wands are not required." Professor McGonagall held up a hand to ignore Hermione's unspoken questions. "Spare me your flood of inquiries, you'll find out in the morning. Goodnight, Miss Granger."  
  
Hermione exited the room and began the long, slow climb to her new quarters. Catching up with Ernie, she breathlessly questioned him about Padma. "Why was she dismissed? Were her grades unsatisfactory?"  
Ernie blushed. "Let's just say that "WhichWitchXXX" took some.compromising pictures of her. When Snape informed Dumbledore."  
  
"How did Snape find out?" asked Hermione.  
  
"I never thought to ask," protested Ernie.  
  
"Well, here we are," she announced after some more climbing. "Dorm, sweet Dorm."  
  
"I wish you luck." Ernie turned to the left while Hermione opened her door and was greeted by a frowning Malfoy.  
  
"Touch anything of mine and I will kill you," he gritted through his teeth.  
  
Hermione smiled kindly at his owl. "I think we know which one is the spoiled only child here, don't we?"  
  
Malfoy let out an enraged howl and stormed out of the study area. "I'll just go the other way!" she called to him and opened the door to her bedroom.  
  
(Author's Note: I was recently rereading my original storyline when I realized what a different path this story has taken. The original was a comic piece that ended with Harry being ingested by a rabid and ravenous flock of flamingos and with Ron going mad with repressed sexual feelings. Testosterone poisoning, I called it. Just wanted to point out all that could happen in five months. Ah well, happy third night of Kwanzaa (if you celebrate it) and joyous New Year.) 


	16. Nightime Visitors

(A/N-Word to anyone reading this! I have little to say)  
  
An hour and a half had passed and Malfoy had still not opened his door. Although disheartened by his hostile attitude, Hermione delighted in her new quarters. Instead of the squalid, cramped chamber she had pictured, the bedroom was spacious and the study area, voluminous. She spread out her belongings and lit a fire in the small common room.  
  
Hermione knew it would be too risky for her to contact Diana from the common room. Malfoy might not be one for bonding around the hearth, but there was the chance that he might seize the moment to explore his new quarters as well. Hermione sighed and opened a book she had purchased in Knockturn Alley. It was a guide to demonology and summoning spells.  
  
She absently brew herself a cup of strong tea and pulled her hair away from her face. Hermione opened the musty old book and immediately wished she hadn't. Dust flew out and she found herself choking.  
  
The door opened suddenly as she gulped her tea to keep from suffocating. Malfoy regarded her undignified position coldly. "I better not have to use the Heimlich, Granger," he warned. "I'll break your ribs, Potter will accuse my of attacking you, my father will accuse Potter of purposely choking you to trap me, I'll get expelled and be disowned."  
  
"You've already put too much thought into this," pointed out Hermione, now composed and peering out her book.  
  
"What's this?" He picked up the book. "Guider aux d(mons," he pronounced in his obviously perfect French. "So the mudblood knows her Romance languages."  
  
"And the virgin isn't the uncultured swine I believed him to be," returned Hermione. "Now will you give me back my book?"  
  
"I don't think so. This looks interesting." He leafed through the book.  
  
"Give it back!"  
  
"Interesting." He opened to a picture of a Fy'ral Demon. Quickly rendering medieval French into English, he read: "The Fy'ral demon can paralyze prey with mucus shot out of a nasal cavity." He shook his head. "Must be a bitch when one gets the flu, eh?"  
  
"Malfoy, quit acting like a two year old. Give me my book," fumed Hermione. Calm.calm.I've already burned one chair today.  
  
"You know," drawled Malfoy. "This doesn't look like a proper school book for an impressionable young.lady."  
  
"Give it back, ferret boy!" she threatened, reaching for her wand. "Or I"ll-"  
  
"You'll what," he interrupted suddenly. "Hex me? Believe me, Granger. If the professors see this book, you'll get more than detention with Snape. They'll call in the Ministry."  
  
"There is nothing illicit about this book!"  
  
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I'm not a moron. You bought this book in Knockturn Alley, didn't you? This book isn't even in the Hogwarts library. The only other known copy is." he stopped short.  
  
"Where?" questioned Hermione, using his lapse of conscious to grab her book.  
  
"My father's study."  
  
"So that's how the troll got here first year," quipped Hermione. Malfoy gave her a cool look.  
  
"Pity it couldn't carry out it's mission," he snapped. He retreated into his room without so much as a "Goodnight."  
  
Hermione didn't mind her sudden solitude, but rather decided he wouldn't venture out of his room again that night. She waited until midnight and just glanced at the fire. "You might as well show yourself," she declared to the lurking goddess. "I know you're there."  
  
The mist gathered out of the fireplace and the shape of Diana formed into the dark room. As her figure began to corporeal, Hermione reflected once more on her mistress.  
  
It was difficult not to believe any word that came out of Diana's mouth. She was as beautiful as the moon itself and shone with greater magnitude than any star in the sky. Her teeth were alabaster, her dress was midnight, her hair blacker than the Stygian darkness. And darkness was what she was famous for.  
  
Over time, poets had given her the title of "the protectress of dewy youth" everywhere. It was a fortunate nickname, Hermione realized as she recalled some of the legends about the mistress. Vengeful and jealous, Diana's idea of "protecting" one of her girls was often granting them a quick death, slain by one of her silver arrows.  
  
"How do you fare this evening, dear child?" purred the goddess. "The girls send their love."  
  
The girls. Adrastea, Chrysothemis, Medea, Deidamia, Hilaria.all of the girls who had urged Hermione to sign over her soul and join them for eternity.  
  
"You have nothing to lose, Hermione," Adrastea urged her. "Harry is the scum of the earth. Show him the Plutonian shores!"  
  
As the scene unfolded before her memory, Hermione recalled the picturesque brook they had been at. The "girls" were young women who, like had exchanged their souls for an eternity with Diana and vengeance powers. Some were Muggles, some weren't. But they all now dwelled in the forests with Diana, where Hermione too would one day be called to go.  
  
"Your name is already Greek, too," commented Hilaria. "It's meant to be."  
  
"Report, daughter," instructed Diana, drawing Hermione out of her memory.  
  
"I have been roomed with the most fierce Muggle-born hater in the Wizarding community," she said hoarsely. "I fear meeting you will become more difficult."  
  
Diana's eyes glittered like two black coals. "You'll manage. Your devotion to me can surpass his desire to view your demise."  
  
She resisted her urge to make a biting retort.  
  
"Or is it? Perhaps you still prefer these humans over your own kind," jeered the goddess.  
  
"What do you mean? You know how loyal I am. You've seen me with Dementia!"  
  
"Virginia Weasley and Dementia have wands pointed to them. A hex is uttered. Who do you push out of the way?"  
  
"Ginny!" said Hermione unconsciously. Diana snarled and whipped out her wand. "That was a bad example. Dementia isn't real!"  
  
"But you would chose Adrastea over Virginia?"  
  
"Without a doubt," said Hermione, uncertainly.  
  
"Granger, what the HELL are you doing out there?" called Malfoy. "Could you summon the vampires a little softer?"  
  
"Please! I cannot get caught! My mission is not yet complete," pleaded Hermione, hastening Diana towards the fireplace.  
  
"Who are your devotions to, my little prophetess?" sneered Diana, pulling her gauze around her thin body. She slung her bow over her shoulder. "You sing my praises, but your harmonies are at variance."  
  
Hermione's own eyes glittered. "I've always been a bit tone deaf."  
  
The goddess disappeared and Hermione slipped into her room and fell into a fitful slumber.  
  
(Short chapter, but I'll update before the week is over. Don't worry, if you are. But PLEASE review. You don't know what it means to get a review, even if it is a flame.) 


	17. Avada Kedavra

Hermione spent the night tossing and turning, unable to sink into a lasting slumber. Images of Diana, great and terrible flooded her mind. As the rosy-figured dawn appeared, she quietly showered, dressed and brewed a cup of tea. She sat down with her schoolbooks and settled herself into a familiar routine—she turned off her mind to problems of goddesses and sacrifices, of souls and murder and reviewed for Advanced Potions.  
  
Her studying was interrupted with the harsh arrival of Draco Malfoy. "It's a quarter after four," he grumbled with barely opened eyes. "Why the hell are you studying?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Why the hell not? I have nothing else to do."  
  
Malfoy yawned. "It sounds odd, but most people like to sleep at night time."  
  
"It's no longer nighttime. Besides, you're awake." She regarded him shrewdly. "Dressed, apparently showered..."  
  
He scowled and with his customary drawl gave the most cliché and Draco Malfoy-like response possible. "Malfoys aren't most people."  
  
That was the end to their morning discussions. Draco heated up his own special blend of teas, which, Hermione noted, were surprisingly aromatic. "It's probably Chai," she pondered, somewhat amused. Draco Malfoy, metrosexual?  
  
Probably, she noted a moment later. The hair was definitely gelled and his hair products probably cost more than her entire wardrobe.  
  
At six thirty, Hermione loaded up her bag and went to the Great Halls. A sleep-deprived Harry and Ron greeted her wearily.  
  
"It's early," noted Ron lamely.  
  
"Yes," commented Hermione dryly as she watched Harry spill orange juice over his robes.  
  
"Missed my mouth," he explained to the table.  
  
"Amazing how much I care," Hermione added sardonically. Ron and Harry regarded her with confused expressions.  
  
"'Mione, it's too early in the morning for your rancorous wit," said Harry finally. "Spare me. Please"  
  
"What's first?" asked Ron.  
  
"Advanced Transfiguration," replied Hermione, taking a bit out of some toast. "And wands are not necessary.  
  
"Why?" asked Harry. "Shouldn't we all bring our wands? What if Hogwarts is attacked in the hour that we have class? What if this is just a diabolical plot of McGonagall's to set us up and..."  
  
"Shut up, Harry," said Ron kindly. "It's just one less thing to carry." He assembled his bags. "I'm going to go up now. Coming, Hermione?"  
  
"I suppose so," she grumbled.  
  
"Meet you up there" called Harry.  
  
"Did you two sleep at all last night?" demanded Hermione as they began the steep climb to the Transfiguration room.  
  
Ron grinned. "Nope. None of the Gryffindor sixth year men did."  
  
Hermione snorted. "Men? Ron, you guys are no more 'men' than myself or Ginny."  
  
Ron looked quite agitated. "Of course we are! Didn't we once help an innocent man escape certain death? Don't we aid the innocent, help the helpless?"  
  
"Didn't you ask me the other night if I would ever make out with your sister?" retorted Hermione.  
  
Ron chuckled. "That was the liquor talking."  
  
Transfiguration began with Professor McGonagall clapping her hands loudly. "I want to make it clear," she stated sternly, "That this is quite a defining year for you. You will discover how much magical aptitude you actually have—how much you can hope for—and what you will never achieve. Some of you will not be able to do half of this course." She paced across the room slowly, advancing towards Neville. He whimpered. "That is, of course, not directly your fault. We are not equally powerful."  
  
She stopped her pacing and continued. "However, you are still expected to complete all the assignments, experiments, trials and the like. I will not tolerate any lame excuses and anyone who fails to meet the requirements of the class will be immediately thrown out."  
  
"Questions?" Not a word was spoken. "Good. Put your books away."  
  
As the class complied with this order, McGonagall gave further instructions. "Today we will be doing basic magic, magic that I taught you in your first class." She nodded towards Ron. "Mr. Weasley, please hand out these feathers." He nervously took the jar and handed a feather to every student.  
  
They stared blankly at her. "You know the words," she said calmly. "Levitate it."  
  
Choruses of "Wingardium Leviosa!" flooded the room, followed by an array of creative curse words and swearing.  
  
"Wingardium Leviosa," said Hermione quietly, wondering what McGonagall's reaction would be as the white feather floated towards the ceiling.  
  
"Good," said McGonagall impassively. "Now keep it there." Bored and frustrated, Hermione gazed intently on the feather for the next five minute. It never wavered.  
  
At the end of the five minutes, only two feathers were at that high aptitude—Hermione's and Malfoy's.  
  
"I'm not thoroughly disgusted with all of you." McGonagall gave a small smile to the two succeeding students and frowned up on the rest. "You couldn't keep a feather in the air for more than thirty seconds, excluding Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy successfully completed the task."  
  
She held up her own feather and muttered a single word and the feather melted into teapot. "Simple? No. Possible? Yes?"  
  
The class sighed and resigned themselves to trying desperately to transfigure the feather. Again, at the end of five minutes only two students had completed the task.  
  
After another brief lecture by Professor McGonagall, the class moved on to basic defense charms. Exclamations of "Expelliarmus!" filled the air as the Disarming Spell failed for practically everyone.  
  
This was an easier one for Hermione. All she had to do was glance at Professor McGonagall (who held the only wand in the class), mutter and it flew into her hand.  
  
"I'm impressed," Prof. McGonagall said softly.  
  
"Expelliarmus," snapped Draco, outstretching his arm. The wand snapped to attention and lurched to join the Slytherin. He smirked at Hermione as she struggled to grip the wand.  
  
"You hold no power of me, Malfoy," she said haughtily. "Prisedia!" She fired the freezing charm on the wand, stopping it in its tracks as it attempted to zoom towards Malfoy.  
  
McGonagall paused thoughtfully at Hermione as she plucked her wand from the air. "Wandless magic is an art, a technique," she said sagaciously, gazing on the dissatisfied faces of her students. "One most of you sadly lack. Class is dismissed."  
  
As a frustrated Harry packed up his books, Hermione perked at his expression. It was one of doubt, aggravation and annoyance. When was there a spell or a magical power he didn't possess? And this time, there was no Snape to tutor him in this art.  
  
"Granger, you stay with me," commanded McGonagall.  
  
"Yes, Professor," she said meekly as the rest of the class exited. McGonagall approached her quietly.  
  
"That was quite impressive today, Miss Granger. I'd like to see the limit of your abilities."  
  
"Pardon?" Hermione could not decipher what her professor meant.  
  
McGonagall peered at her closely as she retrieved a bottled spider from her desk. She emptied it on the floor. "You know Unforgivables, don't you?" she said evenly.  
  
"Professor! Of course not!" Hermione struggled to maintain an outraged tone.  
  
"You don't have to lie. It's not a bad thing, to know them. The evil is in practicing."  
  
"You're powerful, Hermione," said the older woman after a pause. "I wonder if you even know the extent of your own abilities. And this is the best way to find out." She glanced at Hermione. "Kill the spider."  
  
Flashes of the deer she had slain poured into her mind. Hermione shook her head furiously, "Professor, I can't," she babbled. "It's a living creature. I cannot kill it just for a whim, it's not right..."  
  
"It's not a whim, girl!" snapped McGonagall. "As your teacher—as your superior—as a full-ranked witch—I order you to perform the curse."  
  
Hermione shook her head as she felt the hot tears forming.  
  
"You can't fail at this task! You can either do it—and yes, kudos to you. You are perhaps as powerful—perhaps more so—than Dumbledore himself!" Prof. McGonagall was getting agitated. "If you can't, then we know your limit. You know what you can't do. You'll know that in these dangerous situations you can't count on your abilities for defense of this nature!"  
  
Hermione swallowed a gulp of air and stared at the spider, curled up on the floor. The legs, shaking vehemently seemed to be trembling at the sight of her, a sixteen year old girl about to perform the most dreaded curse of all time. The curse that had killed hundreds of her kind, of wizardkind...animals...  
  
"Avada kedavra," she whispered hoarsely as a blinding green light flashed in the classroom. That dreaded rushing noise she had first heard in Moody's classroom filled her ears once again, like an inevitable sense of foreboding.  
  
McGonagall's eyes glittered. "This is indeed interesting, Miss Granger." She picked up the unmistakably dead spider by its legs and tossed it out the window.  
  
"I have to go," said Hermione in a small voice as the spider fell out of the window, its dead weight dropping to the ground below.  
  
(A/N—Yeah for metaphors! Also a big wOOt for losers who are at home on a Friday night, typing fanfiction.) 


End file.
